


Dangerous Games

by verydryzen



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Ballet, Dangerous Liaisons, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Slow Burn, Soulmates, There are more things in heaven and earth ...than are dreamt of in your philosophy, literature based, repartee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-18 11:17:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 59,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13680603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verydryzen/pseuds/verydryzen
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov and Christophe Giacometti are heartless debauched playboys, one gay and one straight. They are ballet dancers who play games of seduction. How will Yuri Katsuki  manage being ensnared in their schemes?





	1. Chapter 1: Prologue

Christophe Giacometti remembers the first time Viktor Nikiforov talked to him. It was at the Arabesque Dance Competition, in Perm, Russia, 7 years ago. At age 20, Viktor had won first prize at numerous competitions as a dancer, and was now competing as a choreographer. He was already a principal at the Mariinsky Ballet, one of the youngest in its history.  
“You're absolutely stunning. How would you like to experience waves upon waves of pleasure?” proposes Viktor in way of greeting.  
“That sounds appealing, but unfortunately I don't fuck men,” replies Christophe, thrilled at being noticed.  
“Don't worry, I will do the fucking, even straight men can learn to enjoy their assets,” cajoles Viktor.  
“I'm surprised you're cruising boys so publicly. The ballet world is quite conservative, careers are still ruined if you don't seem straight,” remarks Christophe.  
“Yes, I'm careful to flirt with women too, while staying nominally in the closet.”  
“Why now? I was just as attractive at the Prix de Lausanne, a few months ago. Yet you didn't even glance at me...” whines Christophe playfully.  
“This performance showed more personality, and presence, you will probably win,” critiques Viktor.  
“So my turning 18 recently wasn't a factor…” counters Christophe.  
“I wait till boys are of world legal age. It keeps me out of trouble.”  
“Too bad, I like trouble. And your offer is… tempting. Maybe one day, I'll explore my homoerotic tendencies, but tonight, I'm more interested in that delicious dark-haired woman in the corner.”  
Viktor turns to assess the woman with a striking amount of cleavage displayed at the top of her dress.  
“Pretty, but not much of a challenge. Once you're done with her, call me. I can entertain you for the rest of the evening,” says Viktor handing him a business card. Christophe scowls at the insinuation that his lovemaking takes a short time. Viktor leaves to talk to another young man, and Christophe turns over the business card. On the back is Viktor's personal cell phone number. Christophe smiles in triumph, for the first time, he feels like he's a part of the ballet elite.

April, 2013: Palais Garnier, Paris Opera Ballet, France

Several ballerinas are dancing across the stage wearing flesh colored leotards and skirts for the ballet Psyche. The art director Brigitte Lefèvre, ballet teachers, and technical director are watching the dress rehearsal from the front row of the audience. Christophe watches the girls dance from the wings. One very pretty dancer slips a bit and twists her ankle. She continues as if nothing happened. She leaps off stage, then limps badly.  
“If I don't dance, they will not give me another chance!” she mutters to herself worried. Christophe steps in with a bottle of spray lidocaine. He offers smoothly,  
“Take off your pointe shoe, I will numb your foot so you can go back on stage.”  
Pretty brunette smiles at the handsome dancer wearing a blue unitard, but winces as she takes off her shoe. Christophe sprays her foot, then offers,  
“Is it okay if I massage your leg?” Christophe asks politely. She smiles and nods, happy for the help, and flattered by the attention. Christophe figures she might make a nice bed warmer, he's in need of a pick me up.

Christophe takes a break from stretching, and gazes blankly at the gilded auditorium. At age 25, he is getting old for ballet, and he feels the wear and tear on his body. Sprains, fractures, torn ligaments, and overuse of certain joints create constant pain. He has been dancing for years in the coryphée at the Paris Opera Ballet, the second lowest level of the company. But the étoiles, the top ranks dancers, are all going strong, and it is unlikely he will make it to that top-tier. He barely gets any time off, and makes a small salary which is barely sufficient for the expensive city of Paris. Christophe is good-looking, and has done well, but being promoted to principal would boost his career. After all, Mikhail Baryshnikov is worth millions. Maybe Viktor could help him, after all, rumor has it the Mariinsky Ballet will be expanding with their new performance venue, and Viktor is their top male dancer.

May, New York City, USA

Viktor Nikiforov wakes up in a hotel room with a handsome naked young man next to him with blonde hair. Johnny? Jimmy? What does it matter. Viktor quickly dresses, admiring the view of Central Park. He leaves a farewell note, and goes downstairs to pay the bills.

American Ballet Theater (ABT)

Christophe enters the stone building, and glances at a poster for the Stars of the Mariinsky Ballet from St. Petersburg. Viktor Nikiforov is featured on the poster. He sees Viktor come towards him, and admires the perfect white hair and fine features. Christophe leans on the wall, jutting his behind in Viktor's direction. Viktor's blue eyes look appreciatively at the body language, and smiles.  
“Christophe! What are you doing in New York?”  
“I've come to see you perform Stay Close to Me. Supposedly your choreography is all the rage, and this is the last performance on the tour.”  
“Ah yes, I'm dancing at the Metropolitan Opera House tonight, a grand pas de deux, after ABT showcases Mark Morris' Drink to Me Only With Thine Eyes. Are you still languishing in the coryphée? They should promote you to premier danseur, at least.”  
“I tried to sleep my way to the top. Our director, Brigitte Lefèvre, is an older woman who should've been flattered by my attentions. Sadly, she did not want me. I could've blackmailed her for years. Any great asses in New York?”  
“I was exploring the ABT corps de ballet last night, not bad. After tonight's performance, I hope to do it again. There's this cute dark-haired dancer I have my eye on…”

Viktor spots the dancer stretching in a classroom. He seems like an easy mark. Should Viktor be direct and invite him to his hotel room? Or the boring drink first? Viktor walks up and says,  
“Hello, I'm Viktor…” The dark-haired man glances up at him, and runs in the opposite direction. Bemused, Viktor inquires from a ballerina nearby,   
“Excuse me, do you know the name of the dancer that just left?”  
“Oh, Yuri Katsuki, he's a dancer from Japan.”   
For the rest of the day, Viktor tries to approach Katsuki, but the latter escapes, or stays hidden. Viktor makes a move during an ABT rehearsal. Katsuki is practicing some spins and jumps with other students. Viktor comes up from behind, gets close to Katsuki and says,  
“Wonderful!”  
Katsuki stumbles, and sprawls on the floor. Viktor offers a hand to help him up, but Katsuki gets up by himself, then bows nervously in his direction. Puzzled by the behavior, Viktor watches Katsuki perform an allegro. The ABT dancer appears more nervous than usual, and lands his jumps off balance. Viktor leaves, only to approach Katsuki exiting the building. Viktor offers,  
“Commemorative photo?” holding out his phone. The Japanese dancer ignores him, and walks back inside the building.

Yuri runs up a flight of stairs, then into a restroom, where he hides in a bathroom stall. He can't believe he has met Viktor Nikiforov. Nikiforov is the celebrity principal dancer of the Mariinsky Ballet, and the best male dancer in the world. He has flawless technique, amazing stage presence, and is perfectly beautiful. In 2010, he acted and danced in the movie Dark Swan. Yuri has seen every video performance of his dances, and owns a copy of Nikiforov's documentary The Living Legend. Nikiforov is also a choreographer and has created a short ballet called Stay Close to Me. He dials Phichit.  
“Viktor Nikiforov has been trying to talk to me,” sputters Yuri.  
“Nikiforov? You've wanted to meet him for ages, did you get his autograph?” replies Phichit.  
“Phichitto-kun, Viktor Nikiforov has been trying to talk to me.”  
“Eek! You mean he's targeted you for seduction? Wow Yuri! You must be dancing well, you know his MO, that's quite a compliment,” enthuses Phichit.  
“…” Yuri clenches his phone, completely overwhelmed.  
“Oh Yuri, don't worry so much. Is this the first time a guy has asked you out? Just say no. He'll get bored and move on to someone else. Where are you now?”  
“Bathroom second-floor.”  
“Let me change into street wear, and we'll walk home. Too bad I missed him in the hallways!”

In his hotel room, Christophe takes a photo of his derrière, and texts it to Viktor. Then he puts on an elegant suit to wear to the ballet performance. Hopefully, this game of lust will amuse Viktor. Viktor has always flirted with Christophe, teased and annoyed by an unattainable piece of ass. At the theater, Christophe runs into Jean Jacques Leroy in the audience, another ballet dancer from the Paris Opera Ballet. He greets the dark-haired bumpkin with fake pleasure, then sits and watches the performance.

Up in the cheapest seats, Yuri watches Nikiforov dance the solo of a Prince who's lost his love. Yuri has seen all the other performances from the wings, but at least once, he wanted to see it from an audience angle. The flow is amazing, the lines created by the body perfect, and even the moments of stillness draw the eye. Nikiforov conveys so much emotion. The grief of loss pervades the piece, and Yuri watches an older woman cry watching the performance. It feels as if man on stage is dancing just for him, no wonder his fans are completely enthralled. At the end, the audience applauds, and then get up in a standing ovation. Nikiforov and his partner Mila Babicheva come back out and take a bow. They are given flowers, and the curtain closes. This repeats two more times, then Yuri carefully puts away the program to put in a scrapbook later.

After the performance, Christophe pushes his way through the crowd of fans into Viktor's dressing room.  
“Viktor, any plans for tonight?” Christophe asks, licking his lips suggestively.  
“Not really. It's boring how I crook my finger, and men just tumble into my bed,” replies Viktor.  
“Well, I have a favor to ask. Do you remember Sophie Gercourt? An older woman, very pretty and very rich. She was my lover early on in my career. She has married Jean-Jacques Leroy, a dancer even younger than I am! Which is why suddenly, JJ has an unlimited budget for commissioning new choreography, costumes, and has even hired a rock band to create his music. Obviously, I'm not happy about this, and I saw them in the audience tonight,” explains Christophe, looking meaningfully at Viktor. Viktor shakes his head, and answers,  
“Too easy. Even though JJ isn't gay, his personality is…probably boring and malleable.”  
“Are you sure? He's Catholic, and was a virgin. Supposedly, he and Sophie waited for marriage to have sex,” as Christophe, waving his hand in disgust.  
Viktor peeks out the door, surveying the hallway filled with dancers and visitors. A young Japanese man, wearing an old blue suit, is talking with another dark-haired young man. Out of habit, the young man pushes his backside into the air, and bends all the way forward till he touches his face to his shins. Viktor admires the round firm derrière, and motions towards it.  
“I want a real challenge. I'm going to seduce that young man,” announces Viktor.  
“Who is that?” questions Christophe, also poking his head out of the dressing room.  
“Yuri Katsuki, a blushing virgin, who can't even talk to me,” replies Viktor.  
Viktor smiles predatorily, and turns to Christophe, placing a hand on the Swiss behind.  
“How about a wager? If I seduce Katsuki, you'll finally spend the night with me,” purrs Viktor. Christophe ponders the offer, observing Katsuki. He watches a young fan try to get an autograph from the Japanese dancer, who becomes flustered and opens the closest door and escapes. The fan looks puzzled, then walks away. The door opens again, Katsuki exits, getting caught up in a mop handle and a few brooms from the utility closet. Christophe takes the hand away from his ass, and gets very close to Viktor's face.  
“Alright. You have until New Year's Eve to seduce him. And you must show me video proof. But I'm not worried. My virgin ass is safe,” replies Christophe sassily.

A few days later, at the end of ballet season, Yuri receives a call from his mother in Hasetsu.  
“Yuri-kun, wonderful news! We have rented the entire inn for two weeks, and for a ridiculously high-price. Maybe we won't go bankrupt after all…” sing songs his mother happily.  
“Mother, that's great! Who are you renting it to? Some kind of conference?” asks Yuri.  
“A foreign gentleman, he is alone with his dog. Maybe Russian?” replies his mother, uncertain.  
Yuri feels his stomach flips over. It can't possibly be…  
“Do you have a name?” croaks Yuri.  
“Ikiforuvu? I'm not sure, if it's important, I will text you the name later.”


	2. Chapter 2: Getting to Know You

Yuri takes the next flight to Japan, then takes a train to Hasetsu. He hasn't been home in five years, and he's not sure if he'll be returning to New York. The train station is different than he remembers, and he walks through his hometown, surprised at how things have changed. He arrives at Yutopia, and a brown poodle jumps up on his chest, causing him to fall backwards. The dog gives him a big lick on the cheek, as he stands back up.  
“Viktor Nikiforov,” announces Nikiforov holding out his hand. “I do apologize, this is my dog Makkachin, she seems to like you.”  
Yuri ignores the hand, and pets the dog. He whispers,  
“Katsuki Yuri, pleased to meet you,” his eyes on the ground. Luckily his mother shows up,  
“Yuri! I'm so glad to see you, come in, I will get you both some katsudon,” she announces warmly.

Yuri and Nikiforov sit at a low table, Yuri uncomfortable and unwilling to talk. Nikiforov ignores the awkwardness, and explains,  
“Every year I travel to a new location to inspire my choreography for the next season. Isn't there a castle nearby?”  
Yuri nods, sitting and biting his lips. He needs to ask Nikiforov a favor, on behalf of his family, but he's so nervous he can't even look at his idol. His sister, Mari, comes in and says,  
“Glad you're home, little brother. Mister Nikiforov, could my parents open up the inn to our regular customers? My parents are not in a good financial situation, we need all the guests we can possibly have.”  
“I see. I'll consider it,” replies Nikiforov. Nikiforov observes Yuri for a moment. Inspired, he offers,  
“I will acquiesce to your sister's request if in return, you accompany me. I want your company 24 hours a day, 7 days a week,” Nikiforov demands playfully. Yuri stares at Nikiforov, his eyes round in shock. Yuri gets up, and escapes to the kitchen. Mari is checking inventory in the fridge.  
“Mari-nee-san, Nikiforov-san will allow other guests if I accompany him…” he shares in a panicked tone.  
“Perfect! Show him the castle and beach, play tour guide… Thanks, Yuri. The whole family is grateful to you.”  
“No but…” but his sister is already gone, leaving to open the inn.

While Katsuki is gone in the kitchen, Viktor picks up Katsuki's cell phone, hides it under the table, and looks at some texts and emails. There's a conversation with a… Phichit, about avoiding the notorious playboy Nikiforov. He hears footsteps, and puts the phone back on the table.

Yuri takes off his glasses, and tries to explain,  
“Sorry, I can't…” The open space around feels too big, threatening. Yuri feels his breath becoming shallow and fast, his heart pounding. He's having a panic attack in front of the gorgeous Russian dancer. Nikiforov looks concerned, and says,  
“Can I get you a glass of water? Are you sick?”  
“My room… Please…” squeaks Yuri, pointing down the hall.  
Nikiforov holds out an arm to support Yuri, but Yuri is collapsing on the floor into a ball. So Nikiforov places himself behind Yuri, puts an arm under each armpit, and lifts him easily. Yuri feels like he's floating down the hall, his feet dangling a few inches off the floor. They arrive at Yuri's bedroom door. Yuri feels his feet gently touch the ground. Nikiforov says apologetically,  
“There's been a misunderstanding. I'm not interested in anything… physical with you. I'm requesting your company but, there's to be no touching,” Nikiforov backs away, “…and of course, you can change and use the restroom by yourself,” adds Nikiforov reassuringly. Yuri wants to decline, but he must help his family. Yuri nods to Nikiforov, then opens the door and hides in his bedroom. 

Viktor is given a guest room for the night. As he stares at the ceiling, he feels a weird sense of irreality to being in this funky inn. He's done some whimsical things before, but this is extreme, even for him. He doesn't really care about the bet, that was out of boredom. During the panic attack, Viktor felt oddly protective. Katsuki is a stranger, but Viktor feels comfortable around him. Who is this person? Why is he here? Between the jet lag, and analyzing his own behavior, Viktor stays up late. Finally in the early morning, he falls asleep.

Viktor wakes up remembering part of a dream. He was standing on a small island. It was warm and sunny, with sun baked rocks, and a few plants. Viktor rubs his eyes, weary from lack of sleep. He should've gone to the Costa del Sol, it seemed pleasant in his dreams.

The next morning, Viktor eats breakfast in the dining room. A traditional Japanese breakfast is served including rice, grilled fish, sweet egg omelet, and pickled vegetables. Katsuki also appears tired and groggy, and they eat in silence. Viktor mentally reminds himself of his rules. No touching, no talk of anything sexual or controversial. The point of the exercise is to be friendly, to habituate Katsuki to his presence and build trust. It reminds Viktor of a documentary on taming wild animals. No sudden movements, regular offering of bits of food, and a slow introduction of anything new. Viktor observes Katsuki, noticing his body language, and his expressions. The nervous biting of his lip, the way he pushes his glasses back. Katsuki seems more nervous once they are done eating.  
“So… Nikiforov-san, what do we do now?” whispers Katsuki.  
“You could start by calling me Viktor,” requests Viktor, enjoying a flavorful bite of fish.  
“Oh no! That would be much too… intimate. Japanese people use last names with an honorific.”  
“Does it bother you that I call you… Yuri?”  
“Well, you are a senior dancer, my sempai, as well as foreign, so it is less inappropriate,” replies a reluctant Katsuki. Viktor groans. Dealing with Katsuki is like dealing with a Victorian maiden worried about propriety. It is definitely an exercise in patience. Viktor considers abandoning this whole pursuit. But he has a stubborn streak, and hates to lose. Meanwhile, Katsuki removes his glasses, and pulls his T-shirt up to clean them. With anyone else, Viktor would assume a flirty seductive move, as Yuri's midriff is uncovered. The baggy sweatpants are being pulled down by Katsuki sitting on his knees at the low table, and the muscles ripple and a few dark hairs are peeping out of the top of the pants. Viktor fantasizes about pulling down that waistband… He stops himself. Focus on his face. The face is cute, almost pretty, with regular features and dark, dark eyes. Much more attractive without the glasses.  
“We should do what you usually do,” Viktor says agreeably.  
Katsuki looks uncertain, then nods.  
“Ballet class. I will meet you out front in a few minutes,” mumbles Katsuki.

They walk to Minako sensei's studio, which is open and empty. Yuri doesn't bother contacting his ballet teacher, he's sure the rumors from everyone in town has alerted her. Yuri warms up in his sweatpants, self-conscious. Nikiforov strips to a tight white T-shirt, black tights and black ballet shoes. Yuri glances away, feeling there's not enough oxygen in the air. Nikiforov is different in person than on a poster or dancing on his laptop. There's a magnetic aura about him, which makes him difficult to ignore. In addition his T-shirt and tights are… tight. They look sprayed on, and every muscle and detail of his body are clearly visible. And the dance belt, a type of jockstrap, looks… big. European men are reportedly more well endowed, Yuri frowns, trying to remember if he'd seen foreign men at the hot spring.  
“Katsuki… do you have a question about… my body?” suddenly asks Nikiforov.  
“Oh,…uh, what brand of dance belt you use? It looks padded,” stutters Yuri.  
“I wear Capezio. And there is no extra padding,” insinuates Nikiforov, arching one of his brows. Yuri stares at the floor, wanting to ignore the awkward conversation about penis size. Nikiforov continues, “Why do you wear such baggy clothes? Doesn't your dance professor object?”  
“My practice clothes are underneath,” Yuri mumbles. Yuri waits till Minako sensei enters the room, then reluctantly peels off the sweatpants, revealing some ratty gray tights.  
“Good morning. We will start at the barre, a simple combination of plié, tendu, relevé,...” says Minako, giving Yuri a conspiratorial smile. Yuri relaxes a bit with the familiar physical activity, and Minako is particularly critical of his technique.  
“Pull up on your standing leg, and feel the flow extending from your arms,” she corrects. “Nikiforov-san, press into the floor with your feet, really use your toes.”

After working at the barre, Minako gives them a break. Katsuki goes to the restroom, and Viktor chats with Minako.  
“Katsuki is marvelous dancer. Why is he not more well-known?” questions Viktor.  
“Honestly, he has an anxiety problem. Also, he is uncomfortable with partner work, a pas de deux requires touching some intimate parts of the anatomy,” explains Minako with a sigh.

Minako sensei makes them do center floor work, then teaches them an allegro that sends them leaping and spinning across the whole studio. Yuri watches Nikiforov do the variation, itching to videotape him. As if reading his mind, Nikiforov hands Yuri his poodle phone.  
“Go ahead. My fans will love you if you post this,” remarks Nikiforov. Yuri records the dance, he is amazed at the strength and grace. He can't help ask,  
“Did you ever want to be anything else than a ballet dancer?”  
“Not really. My father tried to interest me in nature, reading, building train sets – I would pretend to be interested for a bit, then go back to my room and watch ballet videos. My turn,” says Nikiforov, grabbing his own phone. Yuri gulps. He doesn't want to be filmed, but Minako says in her sternest voice,  
“Look up after the turn, open your chest like you're embracing the world.”  
She starts the music, and Yuri turns and leaps, forgetting about Nikiforov.  
“Much better. He's so beautiful, but he hides it!” chides Minako, shaking her head towards Katsuki. 

Viktor watches Katsuki intently, there is something in his dancing which is raw and appealing, while at the same time showing a wonderful attunement to the music.  
“He needs a fairy godmother to redo his wardrobe,” remarks Viktor, gesturing towards the ratty exercise clothes.

The day continues with stretching, climbing stairs, abdominal work, and finally they walk to a big building called the Ice Castle.  
“Good evening, Yuko-san,” greets Katsuki, turning pink at the sight of his cute friend. Yuko's face lights up at seeing Katsuki. Viktor notices the attraction.  
“Yuri! And… Mister Nikiforov! I heard the rumors. The rink is closed for the rest of the day, so have fun! It's good to see you, Yuri-kun,” she says with another big smile.  
Katsuki does some figure 8 practices, carefully paying attention to the inside and outside of the blades. Viktor simply skates around the ice. Yuko gazes at the both of them, delighted. Viktor queries,  
“So you've known him long?”  
“Since he was little, I'm a few years older than him, and I taught him how to skate. I met him in ballet class, and he was so cute! All pudgy and eager! He used to spend every spare moment at the ballet studio. He never had any friends, or other hobbies. I tried to teach him figure skating tricks, but he was too worried about being injured, and not being able to dance.” Yuko calls out to Katsuki, “I have to go! Just lock up when you're done!”

They finish their day in the hot spring, soaking their tired muscles. Viktor takes the opportunity to check out Katsuki's naked body. He is well proportioned, muscled in all the right way, and his…  
“Nikiforov-san?” interrupts Katsuki.  
“Mmm, what?” replies Viktor, returning to Katsuki's face.  
“I can't see well without my glasses, and I can't wear them here because they fog up,” informs Katsuki with a slight edge to his voice. Viktor regards him thoughtfully, understanding the words as stop staring at my body. Katsuki is obviously very shy, but not unaware.

Yuri gets changed in his bedroom into some well worn pajamas. The room is filled with Nikiforov posters of various sizes. He hears a knock on the door. Worried about the posters, he opens the door just a crack.  
“May I help you?” whispers Yuri.  
“You agreed to be my company for two weeks,” replies Nikiforov. Nikiforov pushes the door open a bit, and Makkachin head butts the door, bouncing into the room. Horrified, Yuri looks at the posters, then the bed.  
“But you said no… touching…” protests Yuri. Nikiforov glances at the posters, but seems more interested in the portrait of Phichit and Yuri on the desk.  
“We'll be sleeping side-by-side, that's all… Oh. I see what you mean. Your bed is minuscule,” acknowledges Nikiforov, contemplating the small mattress.  
“I could sleep on the floor?” offers Yuri, hopefully.  
“We will scrunch up for tonight, but tomorrow, maybe we could put a large mattress in the room next door,” decides Nikiforov with an arm flourish.

Nikiforov climbs into the bed, wearing gold silk pajamas. Makkachin hops in next to him, leaving a narrow space. Would Nikiforov really make a pass with his dog? Yuri settles on the edge of the mattress, forgetting to take off his glasses. It's disconcerting to have someone else in his bed. Yuri hasn't slept with anyone since he was little, when he would curl up with his mother on her futon. It's not just the lack of personal space, it's the sound of breathing, swallowing, and the way the whole mattress dips when one of them changes position. Nikiforov is a notorious playboy – will he try to touch him or kiss him? Yuri stares at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Then he hears the unmistakable sound of snoring. Yuri feels ridiculous. Obviously, Nikiforov is more interested in sleeping, than in making a pass at him.

Viktor wakes up groggy and with an acrid taste in his mouth because of the sleeping pills. He commonly takes them when traveling to different time zones. Katsuki is still asleep, and has curled up around Makkachin. Katsuki's glasses are askew, and Viktor carefully removes them. He fights the urge to caress Katsuki's face, petting the dog instead. Then he looks carefully at all the posters. There are images of him from early in his career to a few years ago, and no images of anyone else. Perhaps Katsuki is starstruck? Viktor grins. He is no longer worried about whether Katsuki finds him attractive.

The second day follows the same routine as the first, except for a group of reporters that pounce on them outside, shouting questions and taking photos. Yuri is still in shock at the situation, and barely says anything. That evening, they arrange two futons in the banquet room near Yuri's bedroom. Yuri relaxes at the more familiar situation, most Japanese sleep the whole family in the same room. Nikiforov's phone rings, and Nikiforov puts it on speaker phone.  
“Yakov! How are you?” asks Nikiforov, stretching his limbs elegantly.  
“Vitya, you asked for a few days off! Now Mila tells me you're away for two weeks – get back here! You will be in sorry shape,” yells a gruff voice.  
“Oh don't worry, my Japanese friend is keeping me in shape,” Nikiforov replies with innuendo.  
“I don't want to hear about your sex life, I'm worried about your strength and cardio.”  
“I have daily ballet class, stair climbing, stretching, and ice skating. I can barely keep up with this younger man, his endurance is amazing!” enthuses Nikiforov.  
“Vitya, you also have an appointment with…” yells the voice, but Nikiforov hangs up. “I'm exhausted. When do I get a massage?” Nikiforov asks Yuri. Yuri looks at him with dismay. “Not from you! I want a professional massage therapist…” continues Nikiforov in an exasperated tone, picking up his phone to find a listing.

Early the next morning, Yuri gets a call from Phichit. He grabs his phone and runs to his bedroom, and shuts the door.  
“Yuri! Why did you quit ABT? I hope this isn't about Nikiforov being in Hasetsu?” begins Phichit sternly.  
“I left you money for rent… I will audition for other ballet companies,” promises Yuri quickly. “As for Nikiforov, he's… gathering inspiration for new choreography…” Yuri responds awkwardly.  
“In your bedroom? Are you letting him show you moves?” insinuates Phichit.  
“There's no intimate stuff going on. Maybe he had planned to but… he changed his mind.”  
“Yuri, I've heard he's heartless. He's a brilliant dancer, but he doesn't care about anyone,” warns Phichit.  
“He cares about his dog. But aside from that, he does seem pretty selfish.”  
Yuri returns to the banquet room he shares with Nikiforov. Nikiforov stretches and yawns, while Makkachin keeps bonking him with her nose to hurry him up.  
“Yes, yes. I'm getting up, you will be walked very soon. Ah, Katsuki, what secrets are you hiding this morning?”  
“It's… It's not secret. My friend Phichit wanted to know why you're here. I didn't want to wake you.”

The next few days repeat the same routine. On the fourth night, Yuri wears another faded pair of pajama bottoms, and a raggedy T-shirt. Nikiforov is wearing a black silk pajama set, and pretends to be a ninja, crouching in a corner, then suddenly doing a high kick. Surprised at seeing the elegant man goofing off, Yuri laughs. Taking advantage of Yuri being more relaxed, Nikiforov gets under his own covers, and asks,  
“So any… lovers, or love interests?”  
“No comment,” replies Yuri uncomfortably.   
“Let me guess. You had feelings for Yuko, but she married somebody else. I bet she and her husband haven't had sex in years, especially with triplets. She'd be an easy mark, if you want to seduce her.”  
“I would never do anything like that! She's happy, and I'm happy for her,” insists Yuri, embarrassed at being read so easily.  
“Are you gay?” questions Nikiforov.  
“Why do you ask?” evades Yuri.  
“Rumor has it you haven't dated a girl once,” replies Nikiforov, repeating gossip from Yuko. Yuri hides his face under the covers. He's never even spoken to Phichit about his interest in men. They both come from cultures where one doesn't talk about sexual orientation. Anyway, admiring photos of naked men is just a guilty pleasure he sometimes indulges. Yuri changes the topic.  
“I've done some college classes, but I don't know if I should finish. One day, I plan to run Yutopia with my sister,” announces Yuri halfheartedly.  
“That's what you'd want?” Nikiforov asks, appearing genuinely curious.  
“It's what's best for my family. Maybe I could start a bakery. I love the smell of bread baking, and all the kneading,… but, I would probably eat too much. What about you?”  
“My only desire is to dance leading roles. I sacrificed friends, family time, vacations and unhealthy food to get to the top. I've never planned on retiring… I don't know how to do anything else,” confides Nikiforov, with surprising honesty.   
“But aren't you also a choreographer?”  
“I'm learning to be. Like most dancers, I'm almost pathologically narcissistic, continuously staring at myself in the mirror. Our careers are so short, and I'm afraid of being replaced by younger dancers. Creating a dance is much more mental, and I have to focus on all the dancers – that's a healthier outlook for me. I would like to create something more modern, more emotional,” articulates Nikiforov. Yuri is touched by the confession, and catches Nikiforov's gaze. It's odd, but Yuri senses that beyond the spark of attraction and Nikiforov's scheming, a friendship is forming between them.  
“Good night, Nikiforov-san,” says Yuri, with a slight smile.

Slowly, Yuri trusts Nikiforov will honor his word and not touch him. They converse more easily. Nikiforov chats about his childhood and life on the road.   
“How did you start dancing?” asks Nikiforov.  
“My older sister Mari-san took a few lessons, and I trailed along, I was 3 years old. I didn't like it, but when I was 4, I fell in love with dancing.”  
“Russia has a long tradition of exposing its youth to ballet and concerts. The Soviets believed art is not simply for the elite, it is for the people. Children in Russia are brought to see ballet performances, and I hated to sit and watch. I wanted to dance. I was accepted at a young age to the Vaganova Academy.”  
“It must've been hard to be away from your parents…” remarks Yuri. Nikiforov shrugs.  
“I like the gypsy life. The stage is my home, where someone is always waiting for me,” says Nikiforov.  
“I like being alone, but sometimes I get very lonely. I need…human contact, it's a driving force. Through dance I can… connect with others while keeping my distance. Although… once I was performing and …I was nowhere, yet everywhere. Completely empty. Does that sound weird?” whispers Yuri, surprised at sharing something he's never told anyone.  
“No. Sometimes I feel the music is controlling my body, not me. Or I get drunk on the adulation of the crowds, and I perform amazingly – like being intimate with thousands of people.”

Viktor enjoys Katsuki's company. The Japanese dancer truly listens, instead of simply waiting for a chance to speak. He is so earnest and sweet, Viktor avoids making too many sarcastic remarks. For some reason, Katsuki finds his ninja imitation funny, and Viktor uses it as a running gag for the joy of seeing the smile on the other man's face.

Over the course of the week, Viktor talks to everyone: Katsuki's parents, Katsuki's sister, the shopkeepers, his ballet teacher, Yuko and her husband Nishigori. He even talks with the triplets, mainly finding out about Katsuki's lack of social media presence. Katsuki appears to be kind, dedicated, talented and solitary, aside from the friendly Thai dancer. Viktor snoops around Yutopia, discovering various photographs of Katsuki at different ages. In one room he finds an altar, with a photograph of a small poodle.  
“Vicchan. That was Yuri's dog,” explains Mrs. Katsuki. Viktor feels moved by the resemblance to Makkachin.

Viktor decides it's time to save the cat. Katsuki seems like he would be sensitive to a kind deed. But what type? At the ice rink,Viktor questions Yuko,  
“I've heard that Yutopia is in some financial difficulties. Is it truly dire?”   
“I'm afraid so. Hasetsu used to have dozens of inns, but tourism has declined with the economy. Yutopia is the last one left, and I expect it to close within the year,” replies Yuko with a sad face.  
“Mmm, what about a fundraiser? Where could we perform?”  
“Nikiforov-san, could we build the stage on top of the ice? If you danced, people would come from all over to see you… Yuri-kun should perform as well… What a wonderful idea!”  
Viktor contacts his fellow Mariinsky dancers, Mila and Gorgi. Then he calls Phichit.  
“Hello, my name is Viktor Nikiforov. I got your number from Yuri Katsuki.”  
“Oh, hello. I've heard you're… interested in my friend. Even though he's a fan, you shouldn't toy with him. He's a genuine goodhearted person, he doesn't need to be used by a person like you,” growls Phichit.  
“A person like me? And what kind of person am I?” probes Viktor.  
“Mercenary. Only interested in your own pleasure and gain,” bluntly replies Phichit.  
“I see. Can you fly out to Hasetsu for a fundraiser? It's to benefit Katsuki's family inn. This Saturday.”  
There's a long silence.   
“Yes. I'll be there,” assures Phichit coolly.


	3. Chapter 3: Ballet on Ice

Magically, by the end of the week, the Ballet on Ice has been advertised and organized with help from Minako sensei. Then the Russian dancers arrive at Yutopia.   
“Hello, I'm Gorgi Popovich. Pleased to meet you,” says a tall dark-haired man.  
“Hello, I'm Mila Babicheva, prima ballerina with the Mariinsky. I began partnering with Viktor last year, I'm one of the few who can put up with him,” says Mila with an impish smile. Yuri's jaw drops.  
“So pleased to meet you! You're fire! Your pairing is often called Fire and Ice, though I disagree that Nikiforov is cold in his dancing. The passion is all there, but somehow restrained …I like your pairing better then with Anna Vallinilline.” Yuri puts his hands over his mouth, realizing he's blabbering.  
“You're adorable! How do you know Viktor? He is a difficult partner, because he shines so bright, he overshadows the ballerinas,” says Mila, hooking her arm through Katsuki's.

Yuri watches in awe at Viktor's ability to make things happen. Viktor finds his tablet, and assembles the dancers.  
“There's no particular theme, except perhaps ice, so I recommend performing whatever variation you know well, and don't need to rehearse much. Mila, what will you dance?” begins Viktor.  
“The Snow Queen from the Nutcracker, it seems apropos,” she replies.  
“Mila, would you feel comfortable with me as your prince? I'm taller than Viktor, and we haven't partnered…” ponders Gorgi.  
“Gorgi, we don't have time to practice a pas de deux. Your speciality is character roles, unfortunately, usually the villain… Would you like to do one of those?” offers Viktor.  
Gorgi shakes his head. “Something fun… The Russian dance from the Nutcracker. It'll get the crowd going…” decides Gorgi. Phichit nods his head. Phichit adds,  
“That sounds fun! I can do the Chinese Tea Dance in my sleep… Is that too much Nutcracker?”  
Yuri bites his lip, then says quietly,  
“I wanted to do… Balanchine's Apollo male variation… not really a crowdpleaser…”  
“So in true Nietzsche fashion, I should balance you out by doing something more Dionysian…Afternoon of a Faun?”  
Yuri's mouth hangs open, at the comment. Phichit sees the reaction, and gives him a quick kick.  
“Stay Close to Me solo is what Yuri wants,” grumbles Phichit.

The event draws a huge crowd. The performance goes well and Viktor especially enjoys watching Katsuki perform Apollo. Usually the role is danced by tall blondes, but Katsuki does a good job of presenting the youthful god of music. Unfortunately, Katsuki's parents miss the event in order to work at Yutopia, they watch an excerpt on the local news. Afterwards, the press takes photos of Viktor presenting a giant check to Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki.

Phichit observes Yuri and Nikiforov very carefully. He can see Yuri's guard is coming down. Nikiforov is not making any obvious overtures, but there is a coldness, calculated look that worries Phichit.  
“Yuri, that pallid Russian still wants to bed you…” Phichit declares with a tilt of an eyebrow. Yuri bites his lips.  
“Phichitto-kun, if I were to say… We've never really talked about… dating,” stammers Yuri.  
“You're right. We usually talk about dance… I was worried, especially since we were roommates. Aagh! I should tell you… I'm gay. Living in New York really opened my eyes. I hope you're going to be okay with that, I really value your friendship…” Phichit confides earnestly.  
“Wait… What? Oh, that's fine… I was wondering if… I am? How did you know for sure?” questions Yuri. Phichit giggles, and replies,  
“Not the response I was expecting! I didn't want to have sex with women.”  
“I don't know. It's hard for me to imagine the reality of being with another human up close and personal, and I'm a mature adult, I should be…” Yuri stops and groans.  
“That's what dating is for… It's like when you go to the store, and try on a piece of clothing before buying it. Maybe try dating some women and some men... though that might be awkward in your hometown.”

Viktor observes Phichit's interaction with Katsuki with just as much interest. Katsuki is a completely different person with Phichit, relaxed and joking. Viktor feels a flash of irritation. Normally his good looks, charm and fame make everyone fawn over him. But Katsuki mostly treats him with fear and anxiety. Viktor's natural competitive drive inspires a new plan.

The next day, Mila, Gorgi, and Phichit return home. Yuri decides to take the day off from working out, and takes Nikiforov to Hasetsu Castle. Nikiforov takes lots of photographs and selfies, as usual.   
“The other day you mentioned… Nietzsche, have you read any of his books?” asks Yuri, strangely nervous to hear the response. Nikiforov poses next to a mannequin dressed as a samurai, imitating the demeanor of a samurai.  
“Some. I saw an English copy of his work titled Gay Science, how could I resist?” says Nikiforov with a salacious smile. Yuri is pleased by this response.  
“Do you have any choreography ideas? Will you dance as a samurai?” chuckles Yuri. Nikiforov smiles good-naturedly.  
“I'm enjoying Japanese culture, especially the food. But you're right, I'm not inspired for a new dance. Last year I was inspired by a classic ballet.”  
“Ooh! Which one?” squeals Yuri, suddenly excited.  
“Let me show you,” replies Viktor enigmatically.

Later that day, Nikiforov gives Yuri two plane tickets.   
“You're going to Italy?” asks Yuri puzzled.  
“Yes, with you,” declares Nikiforov.  
“With me? But, … I can't.... I mean.... that's impossible,” sputters Yuri.  
“Why not?”  
Yuri feels cornered, but simply tells him the truth.  
“Look, you must have lost a bet or something, which is why you're attempting seduce me. If it will help, I will tell whoever we slept together. But there's no need to go to such lengths…”  
Nikiforov looks surprised by the candor.  
“Katsuki, I learned your name in New York and tried to ask you out. You avoided me. I found out you were from Hasetsu, Japan, and the town seemed interesting. I didn't know you would travel from New York to Japan the same time I was here. And your family inn is about the only place to stay in this tiny town. As for the plane tickets, I have lots of frequent flyer miles. What's the difference between accompanying me in Hasetsu versus elsewhere?”  
“Nikiforov-san, you are rather infamous for seducing men and women, and I'm not comfortable with that…” protests Yuri.  
“Actually, I only have sex with men. The women are lying to protect me, or for name dropping. When I make love to a woman onstage, it's more thrilling if they think I'll actually do it…”  
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” says Yuri with a grimace.  
“I'm being honest, a quality you admire. Is my bad reputation the only reason you refuse to travel with me?”  
“No, there are others,” replies Yuri, reluctant to talk about it.  
“Katsuki, I have already promised not to touch you. It's fine to stand up for one's principles, but should your fears rule your life? Imagine yourself at the end of your life. Won't you regret saying no? People are not all good or all bad. You need to explore your bad side just a little bit,” persuades Nikiforov.

Yuri packs a small suitcase, deciding he has definitely lost his mind. He's been hanging out for almost two weeks with Viktor Nikiforov, and now they are going on a trip together. It's altogether crazy, but Nikiforov makes it seem natural. They take the train to Narita Airport, and before he knows it, they land near Venice, Italy.

Nikiforov ushers Yuri into the watery world of Venice. They arrived by boat taxi at a small luxury hotel on the Grand Canal, a 16th century palazzo. A tailor comes by to take their measurements, and by evening they are both wearing elegant black-tie tuxedos. Another short boat ride to a restaurant next to the theater, where they indulge in a delicious rustic pasta, bigoli with sardine sauce. Then Nikiforov walks Yuri to the theater. The entrance to the theater is smaller than he imagined. But inside Yuri is in awe of the gilded boxes, the blue ceiling, and the red velvet seats. They prepare to watch the ballet Sleeping Beauty. Nikiforov narrates,  
“Teatro La Fenice, which means the Phoenix Theater. It has burned down 3 times, each time rebuilt.”  
The music is lovely, and Yuri is enraptured by the principal male dancer, Michele Crispino. As they leave the building, Yuri exclaims,  
“The theater was so beautiful! Did you like Crispino's Prince Désiré variation? I did. The fouetté turns were so light, did you see him leap? He was floating!” Yuri grins. “So handsome, he's done some modeling. Isn't he a principal dancer at La Scala? Sara and Michele danced beautifully together! They're the only brother/sister pair I know…”  
“It's a little disturbing for them to be performing romantic duets though…” complains Nikiforov, yet giving a pleased look in Yuri's direction. “If you lived in St. Petersburg with me, I could take you to the ballet every week.”  
They return to their hotel room in a gondola, the evening lights shimmering upon the water.  
“Nikiforov, this is my first date with a man,” confesses Yuri. “Do you treat all your dates this way?”  
“Who says this is a date?” replies Nikiforov, trying to look innocent. Yuri gives him a knowing look. Nikiforov relents, “No. Usually I don't even bother with dinner, I go straight to a hotel. I don't even spend the night.”  
“I'm having a wonderful time! But …I still won't have sex with you,” affirms Yuri. Nikiforov gives him an appraising look.   
“Fine. Will you lean against me?” asks Nikiforov, raising his arm. Yuri feels his heart beat a little faster. He leans his left shoulder into Nikiforov's right side. Nikiforov puts his arm over his shoulder, and then tilts Yuri's head into his chest. They spend the rest of the boat ride in that position, and Yuri reluctantly disengages himself when they arrive at the hotel.

Back in the hotel room, Yuri stands on the balcony of their hotel room, marveling at the play of lights over the water. He also doesn't want to face rejecting Nikiforov again. The pull of attraction is getting stronger, and the surroundings are dangerously romantic. Nikiforov joins him on the balcony.  
“I've been thinking about your dance, Stay Close to Me. The movements show so much love and longing, who inspired it?” asks Yuri.  
“When I was a teenager, I met someone who I fancied myself in love with.… We talked about what losing true love would be like. I stupidly hoped if I performed this dance, he would find me again. A romantic notion! I'm sure it was just raging hormones. We humans like to deceive ourselves, we are all Eros, not much Agape,” proclaims Nikiforov.  
“I don't know those words, explain.”  
“The ancient Greeks had many words for love. I don't remember all of them, but some refer to self-love, and the love of family. Eros is sexual passion: it's dangerous, fiery and irrational. Agape is selfless love, some say the love we share with God.”  
“The perfect topic for a dance: a man's journey from Eros to Agape,” proposes Yuri excitedly.  
“Or from Agape to Eros,” adds Nikiforov, more cynically. Nikiforov makes a motion to return to the room, but Yuri glances over and stays put.  
“Afraid to face me in the bedroom?” questions Nikiforov.  
“I don't like… discord. But when you're not trying to get into my pants, I rather like you,” admits Yuri.  
“Yuri, I barely touched you! Let alone your pants…” counters Nikiforov with a smile.  
“You're patient, I'll give you that. You even… kind of like me. But why are you going to these lengths to seduce me? It doesn't make sense,” replies Yuri with a furrowed brow.  
“Alright. What do you want to happen?” inquires Nikiforov.  
“Nothing. I'm going to put on my pajamas, and dream of ballet dancers,” replies Yuri, feeling like a 10-year-old.  
“Go ahead. I'll wait out here. And Katsuki…”  
“What?”  
“You do want something to happen. Just not sex.”

Yuri changes into his pajamas inside the bathroom. What did Nikiforov mean? How far did Nikiforov plan to take this? What constitutes sex anyway? Penetration? Ejaculation? Yuri sits on the edge of the bathtub, unwilling to go back out. By the time he gets the courage to return to the bedroom, Viktor has changed into red silk pajamas, and is under the covers. Yuri hovers near the bathroom door. Viktor shakes his head, waves his hand at him exasperated, and says,  
“Come to bed. You should know by now I won't do anything.”  
“Only if you explain what you meant earlier,” demands Yuri, still feeling like a child.  
“You'd like me to hold you. Any other questions?” explains Viktor. Yuri comes closer, frowning in concentration.   
“I do?” replies Yuri, confused by his own reactions. Nikiforov props up some pillows, pulls up the covers, and lifts one arm. Yuri gingerly sits down, feels the arm around his shoulder, and waits.  
“Comfy?” quizzes Nikiforov, then he murmurs, “Relax. I'll kiss you when you're ready to be kissed.”  
Yuri can feel Nikiforov yawn, and settle in for the night. He can hear a heartbeat, and breathing, and heat from the chest next to him. It's intoxicating and soothing.

Viktor wakes up with Yuri's head still on his chest. He was having the same pleasant dream he had in Hasetsu. He was standing on a small island. It was warm and sunny, with sun baked rocks, and a few plants. Viktor was looking towards the coast, seeing a stone building with red Terra-cotta roof tiles. He certain it is not Spain, it is somewhere in Italy.

Leaving Venice breaks the magical mood. Viktor ignores Katsuki. He spends his time notating choreography, and even does some preliminary sketches of costumes. As they board the plane, Katsuki slumps in his seat, and seems more and more depressed.  
“What's wrong?” asks Viktor, slightly irritated.  
“At the end of the season, I was discouraged and I quit ABT. I've been stuck in the corps de ballet, barely getting any roles. Then I changed my mind, and called Mr. Cialdini, the art director, to get my job back. He'd already replaced me. I've been asking around but… I can't find a company that will hire me. Maybe I should just retire from dance,” replies Katsuki despondently.  
“Yuri Katsuki, you don't understand your own talent. You're younger, have had fewer injuries, and your stamina is good. You could surpass me with the right guidance and confidence.”


	4. Chapter 4: I Whistle a Happy Tune

In a studio at the Mariinsky, Viktor takes a break from working on the choreography for his new piece. He picks up his phone, reads a text from Katsuki and types a quick reply.

Katsuki Yuri: Very hot and humid today, the cicadas are buzzing...  
Viktor Nikiforov: You sound bored. Contact more dance companies.

Mila comes up next to him.  
“On your phone again? You're as bad as a teenager lately,” marvels Mila.  
“I have a new texting pal. He writes about bugs and heat – not very sexy!” complains Viktor.  
“It's sweet! Most men would simply send a dick pic,” grimaces Mila.  
Viktor rewatches the video of Katsuki in Minako's ballet class. There's something about the Japanese dancer sticking in his mind. Maybe it's just the untapped potential, a dancer who has yet to fully bloom.

To: Viktor Nikiforov  
From: Christophe Giacometti

Dear Viktor,  
I have been fornicating with a dark-haired beauty named Isabella Yang, she used to be in the corps de ballet till she injured her neck. Unfortunately, she became addicted to opioids. She is a video editor, and I have arranged for her to work with JJ. I'm hoping her beauty will bewitch him. If JJ falls in love with her, he will lose his wife's money and have to deal with a poor addict.

Dear Christophe,  
careful, the prima ballerina Ghislaine Prévan has been spreading evil tales of how you mistreat women, though Prévan herself is notorious for sleeping with three brothers at once. I am oddly out of sorts, I haven't been in the mood for even a quick fuck. I barely enjoy walking my dog.

Dear Viktor,  
I'm not afraid of Prévan, she is a fool. And I have to question your taste in pets. Dogs are stupidly happy and loyal. My cat, Marquise, is smarter, prettier, and more vicious.

At the Mariinsky, Yakov Feltsman assembles the entire dance company of about 200 dancers to make an announcement. He looks about to tear out his sparse white hair.   
“This year is a big turning point in the history of the Mariinsky Ballet. With the opening of the Mariinsky Second Stage a few weeks ago, we will be performing more ballets than ever. In addition, Arutyun was climbing on some rocks on the beach, and broke his leg. He will be out for at least 6 months. Therefore, I am hiring 40 new dancers.”

Later that day, Viktor visits Yakov in his office, who is pacing behind his desk.  
“Good. Vitya, I need you to sign a contract. What ridiculous request will you make this time? Do I have to paint your dressing room gold? Provide you with organic nuts? I refuse to guarantee who you'll be dancing with, I can't guarantee a ballerina will be injury free!” rants Yakov. Viktor ignores the issue of his contract, and recommends,  
“Yakov, you should hire Yuri Katsuki from Japan. He's been dancing with ABT.”  
“Who?” Yakov checks the internet. “Too short!! Our Russian ballerinas are tall.”  
“Do it anyways,” insists Viktor.  
“What nonsense are you spouting now? Why would I do that?”  
“Lilia, your sweet wife, will leave you if she finds out you're still gambling,” cautions Viktor, observing him closely.  
“Vitya, don't play games with me. I know plenty of damaging things about you. Blackmail isn't the way of requesting a favor,” chides Yakov.  
“Fine. Consider hiring him, please. In return, I might be inspired to stay with the Mariinsky. I have offers from the Bolshoi, the San Francisco Ballet, the Dutch National Ballet,…” muses Viktor, recalling which companies had contacted him recently. Yakov scowls.   
“I will have a contract for you tomorrow. And Vitya… if your lover causes any problems, I will throw him out on the street myself,” warns Yakov, motioning for him to get out.

“Yuri Katsuki? This is Yakov Feltsman, the artistic director of the Mariinsky Ballet. One of my dancers was injured, I'd like to audition you. I will see you Monday. Have a good day.” Yuri stares at the phone in complete disbelief. Should he call Nikiforov, and ask if it's okay? But they aren't really friends. Yuri stares at his phone, puts it down, then picks it back up. He dials Nikiforov, then chickens out, and hangs up. The phone rings.  
“You called?” asks Nikiforov.  
“Nikiforov-san, how are you?” begins Yuri nervously.  
“Fine. Are you coming to St. Petersburg?”  
“I don't know. I don't understand why Yakov Feltsman would want a second rate Japanese dancer in his troop. And things would be awkward between us…” demurs Yuri.  
“Katsuki, I'm dating people, so if you're coming, it's to become a better dance. Not for me,” clarifies Viktor, a bit coldly.  
“Of course. There's nothing special between us. I'm aware of your… proclivities. But as a dancer, would the Mariinsky Ballet be a good fit for me?”  
“You need a boost of confidence. I don't know if Yakov will give you that. But he's got an excellent eye. He can see minute details in posture and movement, that most people need a slow-motion video to catch. He could teach you a lot.”

Yuri ponders his choices. He could fly to New York and beg Celestino Cialdini to take him back, and continue to live with Phichit. Does he have the guts to move to Russia? The old Yuri definitely would not go. But he spent two weeks with Nikiforov, and even went on a date! This is his chance to become the new Yuri. Yakov Feltsman is a brilliant director, one of the best in the world. Yuri is absolutely, positively not moving to St. Petersburg to be near Nikiforov. This is just his last opportunity to be the best dancer he can be. 

June, St. Petersburg, Russia

Yuri is excited to be in St. Petersburg, a city with an illustrious ballet history. He arrives at the old Mariinsky Theater, a building with teal and white arches, columns and all sorts of little decorations which remind Yuri of a wedding cake. Across the Kryukov canal, the Mariinsky Second Stage looks like a big modern factory, with a few large areas of glass. He heads across the canal to the new building for his appointment. Near the doorway, a few people are smoking outside, obviously ballet dancers by the way they stand with their legs turned out. Yuri spots Nikiforov nearing the doors, and he walks forward to say hello. But Nikiforov ignores him, yells in Russian to the smokers, and enters the building. 

The meeting with Yakov Feltsman early Monday morning is brief.  
“You will train with my dancers for one-week time. At the end of the week, we will discuss your future,” Mr. Feltsman says curtly. Then he hands him a schedule and waves him off. The day begins with a ballet class with the corps de ballet, taught by the ballet mistress Lilia Baranovskaya at the studios of the Mariinsky II. Yuri looks agog at the dozens of skinny women with buns walking around, astounded to be in the world renowned dance company.  
“Do we also dance at the old Mariinsky theater?” whispers Yuri to the blonde next to him.  
“Yes. But be quiet. Lilia trained with the Bolshoi, she's very strict. ”  
The dance mistress seems completely unimpressed by Katsuki's dancing.  
“No, no, not like that at all! Throw yourself away! Your past self is dead! People who can be reborn as many times as necessary are the strong ones. This is Russia, you must learn to dance as a Russian," she orders.

After class, some of the principal dancers, Nikiforov, Mila Babicheva, Georgi Popovich are seen coming out of a class taught by Yakov Feltsman. The younger ballet dancers titter and giggle amongst themselves upon seeing the principal dancers. Nikiforov especially causes a stir. Men and women gaze at him with desire, or envy. Yuri feels the hair on his arm stand up. Recognizing Katsuki, Mila comments as she passes,  
“Ballet stars in Russia are like rock stars!” she says with a wink and a smile. Nikiforov simply gives him a faint nod. The day continues with specialized weight training. Then they go to the main stage of the Mariinsky II. The stage is huge and modern with gray shapes and minimal lightweight design, completely different from the old Mariinsky with its baroque gilding. Yuri warms up in the wings, and watches a teenage blonde boy do an incredible grand jeté. His jaw drops. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. He isn't good enough to be here. The blonde boy comes over and says,  
“I'm Yuri Plisetsky. You need a nickname, we can't have two Yuris in this place.”  
“Call me Katsuki. Pleased to meet you.”  
“See ya later. You'll be rooming with me,” informs Plisetsky.

Yuri feels completely invisible in the Russian company. The majority of dancers act like he's not there, and look straight through him. Only recently has this company accepted non-Russian dancers. He is surprised to be rooming with a 15-year-old. Plisetsky explains,  
“I am still at the Vaganova Academy, but I also take classes here, because Lilia is training me for competitions. Why did you join the Mariinsky?”  
“At ABT I was lost in the corps de ballet, completely overlooked. At least here, I hope to learn the Russian approach to dance…but people haven't been too friendly,” acknowledges Yuri, a bit discouraged.  
“The Mariinsky is still considered the ballet of the Tsars, aristocratic and refined, unlike the flashier Bolshoi. In other words, they're a bunch of snobs. Aren't you friends with the famous Nikiforov?” insinuates Plisetsky.  
“We know each other but… we aren't really friends. I hope to get roles on my own merit, break out of my shell,” replies Katsuki, ignoring the insinuation.

At the end of the day, Katsuki follows the blonde boy through the ornate Metro, to an ugly concrete building in desperate need of repairs. They go up three flights of stairs to a tiny, messy apartment. The small bedroom has two thin beds, and the one near the door is empty. There is some slow wailing Russian music, coming from upstairs.  
“Vse kozy! Vladimir Vysotsky again!” shouts Plisetsky, grabbing a broom, and pounding the ceiling with it. Katsuki is shocked at the behavior. He asks worriedly,  
“Vysotsky is your upstairs neighbor?”  
“No, he's an old singer the geezer upstairs keeps playing. And be careful, don't let any drunks into the building. Rumor has it they're a fire hazard,” warns Plisetsky.  
“There's a drunk arsonist?”  
“No. The guy upstairs drinks so much vodka, he'll catch on fire when lighting a cigarette.”  
“Who used to sleep here?” asks Katsuki, pointing to the empty bed.  
“Gorgi Popovich. He left to shack up with his girlfriend. It's not much, but it's cheap. Maybe someday I'll be able to afford a swank apartment like Viktor.”  
Plisetsky shows him the tiny kitchen, then takes a frozen package from the freezer, and dumps the little white lumps into the microwave.  
“Pelmeni. A type of dumpling, not very good, but easy to make,” explains Plisetsky.

The first week, Yuri trains relentlessly. Lilia constantly yells in Russian, and expects Yuri to review all the basics. At night, he studies Russian, and passes out. He crosses paths with Nikiforov a few times a day, but otherwise there is no contact. He learns to avoid the drunks lying in the doorway in the early morning. The stench of cheap vodka permeates their bodies, and Plisetsky teaches him the Russian word peregar, the smell of metabolized alcohol. Yuri is not sure if he will stay, he leaves his bags packed. 

Katsuki Yuri: I've joined the Mariinsky! I'm now living in St. Petersburg. I hope I've made the right choice, my decision to leave ABT was poorly thought out.  
Phichit Chulanont: !?? I know you admire pasty Russians, but should you work near Nikiforov? I'm worried about you getting involved with such a libertine. Come back to NY, I miss you!

At the beginning of the second week, Mister Feltsman presents Yuri with a different schedule. He now joins the principals for morning ballet class, where he is observed and critiqued by Yakov Feltsman himself. Yuri realizes this is a way for the art director to assess his new dancer. Nikiforov walks into the room, and the atmosphere changes. Nikiforov places hand on barre, with poise and energy, and Yuri finds himself even more focused and driven. It would mean so much for Nikiforov to see him dance well.  
“It's a grand battement, not a jeté!” yells Feltsman to one dancer, then to Nikiforov, “I like your feet today,” he complements grudgingly.

Viktor surreptitiously observes Katsuki in class. The Japanese dancer is still shy, but seems very determined. Good. Viktor has been purposely unfriendly, making sure Katsuki is here to dance, not pursue a relationship. Viktor feels energized by his presence, and pushes his extensions to the limit, even adding a few little flourishes with his arms. He hasn't felt this excited for a new season in a long time.

Meanwhile, Yakov observes with astonishment his superior and self-indulgent star, usually suffering from ennui, suddenly act like a teenager in heat. His first worry is Katsuki will capitalize on his power over Viktor, and Yakov will be burdened with two divas. But Katsuki seems shy and serious, the complete opposite of Viktor's personality. Dancers are more dedicated at a young age, but can be emotionally immature since they don't have time to socialize like other kids. Ugh! Yakov has a bad feeling about this. Financially, he's glad to keep Viktor on the payroll, but managing two full performance schedules, will probably mean more than twice the drama. At the end of class, Yakov takes Katsuki aside, gruffly says,  
“I'm hiring you as a second soloist, but continue to train with the principals.”  
The other soloists and corps de ballet will be less than thrilled by his new hire, and Yakov wonders whether this unassuming Japanese man will survive the negative gossip and backstabbing.  
“Vitya, you're coming to dinner next Friday,” declares Yakov, seeing Viktor eavesdrop on his conversation with Katsuki. Viktor looks annoyed, but nods reluctantly.

Friday night, Mila admires Yakov and Lilia's ornate and large home. A huge dining room has been set up with glittering dishes that look fit for royalty. Most of the guests are elderly rich women, accompanied by their husbands. The trick is to flirt and flatter these patrons of the arts to get large donations, but without committing to sex. In the past, ballet dancers were more like courtesans, less like the athletes of today. Mila is surprised to see Viktor arrive at the gathering. She watches him smile and chat, oozing his usual charm and charisma. She slowly works her way near him.  
“What god have you offended to be sent to this purgatory?” she whispers.  
“I owe Yakov a favor. I'm not sure it was worth it, I've already been pinched twice.”


	5. Chapter 5: From Paris with Love

The following week, a dozen more dancers are added to the roster. Most are Russian dancers from the Vaganova Academy in St. Petersburg, and the Perm Ballet School in Perm, and a few international dancers, notably Kimin Kim from Korea and Christophe Giacometti from the Paris Opera Ballet.

“Christophe! I had no idea you'd been hired,” Viktor greets him in surprise.  
“It was a sudden decision, and I'm staying at a hotel. May I stay at your apartment?” asks Christophe.  
Viktor gives him a calculated look.  
“You can spend a night in my bed, otherwise I need my space,” Viktor informs him. Christophe's smile gets a little crisped at being turned down. He distracts himself with a game.  
“Fuck, marry, kill? JJ Leroy, Yuri Katsuki, Kimin Kim,” questions Christophe.  
“You know I abhor violence,” replies Viktor, implying with his tone he means violence in bed.  
“It's a game, not an actual life plan,” counters Christophe.  
“Oh I don't know, fuck Katsuki, marry JJ, kill Kim.”  
“Explain.”  
“Katsuki has an earnest little face. I want him to scream in pleasure. JJ is pretty and stupid, a perfect little wife. Kim is an amazing talent, so it would be better if he were disposed of…” says with a tinge of jealousy. Christophe seems mollified by Viktor's envy of the Korean man, just made principal dancer.  
“Viktor, there's always a brilliant young dancer about to take over. We're not getting any younger. ”  
“Yes, but we will delay it as much as possible. And in the meantime, I'll dance like a god and become a living legend,” announces Viktor with a sardonic tone, quoting the documentary about himself.  
“Viktor, I came to the Mariinsky because I no longer want to be stuck in the background. I want lead roles.”  
“Yakov Feltsman is impressed by talent. Show him you can dance, he will give you a chance.”  
“Which principal dancer has a bored wife or girlfriend?” inquires Christophe with a nasty smirk. Viktor looks at Christophe warily.  
“Careful, the Russians are not as forgiving as the French in regard to infidelity,” warns Viktor. Then he shrugs, knowing that Christophe will learn the gossip anyways. “Konstantin Korsuntsev has been neglecting his family.”

Christophe buys a fancy sandwich for lunch, then ambushes Katsuki.  
“Hello, I'm Christophe. I bought too much food, would you like to share with me?” offers Christophe with a friendly smile. Katsuki shakes his head.  
“I'm Katsuki. Sorry, I've brought my own lunch.”  
Christophe tries to strike up a conversation several times with Katsuki, being as charming as possible, but is politely declined. Irritated, Christophe finally says,  
“I'm an old friend of Viktor's, I was hoping you would talk to me. Do you dislike me for some reason?”  
“I'm sorry, I'm… nervous around new people. How ...do you know Nikiforov?” asks Katsuki.  
“We met at various ballet competitions, before he was famous. He's always had a special affection for me. He begged me to come here, I think he's a bit lonely,” embellishes Christophe.  
“Well... maybe you two could be roommates, I've heard he has a wonderful large apartment,” replies Katsuki with a bow, and leaves. Christophe boils at the slight, but smiles to cover it up.

Monday morning, Plisetsky and Katsuki wake up to water puddling in their kitchen area, and dripping fast from their ceiling. Katsuki gets a pot from the tiny kitchen, and Plisetsky yells at the upstairs neighbor. Then they get dressed, and head to the theater. When they return, the landlord has opened up a hole in the ceiling, and the flood has become a slight drip.  
“There's no running water in the kitchen. The landlord says we have to use water from the bathroom,” grumbles Plisetsky. Over the next few days, the hole in the ceiling becomes bigger. Plisetsky completely loses his temper when he discovers the upstairs neighbor stealing food with a hook and line through the ceiling hole. At the Mariinsky, Katsuki watches as Plisetsky rants to Feltsman about the situation. Nikiforov comes over and offers,  
“They can both stay over at my apartment until the repairs are done.”

Unbelievable. Viktor feels his forehead, wondering if he needs to have his head examined. Winning a bet is all well and good but… he's already spent more money and time on Katsuki than he has in his last three years of dating. And now, he arranged to have Yuri in his home. Two Yuris. He hates guests.

Yuri walks with Viktor and Plisetsky to an elegant building not far from the Mariinsky. As enervating living with Nikiforov in Hasetsu was, this feels even more dangerous. It is unthinkable without Plisetsky, Yuri considers the brash young boy a human shield. They enter the modern apartment, and Makkachin bounces up to Yuri, recognizing him. Yuri smiles at the dog, petting her, then sees the kitchen. The kind of kitchen one sees in magazines, gleaming, modern, and equipped with the latest appliances. Nikiforov notices his reaction, and says,  
“The apartment was done in the Scandinavian style. I'm fond of its simplicity, and industrial look. I hired a Danish designer. Please use the kitchen as much as you want.”  
Yuri walks into the small space, runs his fingers along the counters, and opens cupboards. It's not just the appliances, it's the measuring cups, the sieves, the copper cookware, and every grater, slicer, peeler and melon ball tool imaginable. Yuri walks over to the knife holder, and pulls out a few knives. They are high-quality, full tang, German knives, and perfectly weighted. Yuri sighs in delight, while registering what trouble he's in. If Nikiforov loves to cook, that makes him even more attractive... as if his dancing talent and perfect body weren't enough.

Viktor watches Yuri, surprised and pleased by his exploration of the kitchen. Yuri had mentioned something about liking to bake, but Yuri obviously likes to cook as well. There's something about his genuine enjoyment that makes Viktor want to touch him. Conquering Yuri sexually is no longer the primary goal, he wants Yuri to look at Viktor the way he admired his kitchen.

Plisetsky snoops around Viktor's elegant and upscale apartment. He's never been here before, but he's heard the rumors that Viktor is protective of his personal lair. Plisetsky has never heard of anyone else staying with the diva dancer, Katsuki must be special. He throws his bag into a corner of the living room, and then watches Katsuki and Viktor. Their interactions are odd. They avoid each other, but also watch each other intently. Plisetsky is surprised, he thought Katsuki was Viktor's lover. Are they just friends?  
“I have one guest bedroom…” Viktor shows them. Katsuki nods, and replies,  
“Great! Don't worry, Plisetsky and I can share.”  
Plisetsky sees a look of irritation cross Viktor's face. Jealousy? No way! Plisetsky gets real close to Katsuki, and pretends to pick out a piece of lint from his black hair.  
“Crap, you should wash your hair, Katsuki!” exclaims Plisetsky, smiling at yet another look of irritation from Viktor. The snooty star is definitely interested in this Japanese man. This might be fun after all!  
“Plisetsky, you sleep on the floor, you don't weigh as much,” orders Viktor, probably in retaliation.

Yuri goes from barely seeing Nikiforov, to living with him and working with him. In class, Yuri feels a harmony to them moving together, and surreptitiously emulates his technique. Outside of class,Yuri is unsure how to act, but Nikiforov ignores him and goes about his daily life. That afternoon, Yuri learns Nikiforov is working on a new ballet choreography.  
“Are you doing the Greek words for love?” inquires Katsuki, his curiosity overcoming his shyness.  
“Yes, I was inspired by our chat in Venice. I found this wonderful melody reinterpreted in various musical styles, it creates an interesting repetition, almost at a subconscious level. I wanted to choreograph a story about a married man who falls in love with another man and call it Greek Love, but Yakov said no. Now the dance is about a man who falls in love with his friend's wife. Yakov calls it Journey of Love, it's inspired by your life,” shares Nikiforov with a knowing smile. Yuri gives him a severe look.  
“You're in big trouble if the woman has triplets,” warns Yuri.

Early the next morning, Viktor watches Katsuki stumble around the kitchen, looking around for silverware.  
“Why don't you put on your glasses?” quizzes Viktor.  
“I like my mornings to be fuzzy. It cushions me from too much reality,” mumbles Katsuki.  
“Should I be worried about letting one of my crazed fans into my apartment?” asks Viktor. Katsuki frowns, yawning and shaking his head.  
“What are you talking about? Do you have any tea?” replies Katsuki.  
“You had more than a dozen posters of me in your bedroom. Are you going to decorate my guest room in the same way?”  
Katsuki flushes red, remembering Nikiforov in his bedroom.  
“No, I will be putting up posters of Chris Rodgers-Wilson. He's gorgeous... maybe he'll break up with Andrew Killian,” retorts Katsuki, implying he'd have a chance with the Australian ballet dancer.

Yuri finds a photograph of Chris Rodgers-Wilson bare chested, in motion, pulling down his dark tights. Chris is a very handsome and talented, maybe Yuri could fly to Melbourne to see him perform. He also adds a photograph of Ed Pearce & Adam Kirkham from Balletboyz, two naked men performing a lift wearing nude colored briefs. Yuri feels very proud of himself. He's finally getting over his obsession with Nikiforov, and maybe he'll be considered for a good role. Plisetsky frowns upon seeing the decorations. Katsuki bites his lip, already second-guessing his decision.  
“You don't like it?” says Katsuki nervously.  
“I like ballet dancers who have trained in the Russian tradition. You should put up a picture of Otabek Altin, in a few years, he'll be famous,” proclaims Plisetsky. Then looking uncomfortable with his declaration, Plisetsky quickly leaves the room.

The next evening, Plisetsky comes out of the shower, and sees Katsuki busy in the kitchen. Katsuki is wearing an apron, boiling water, and chopping ingredients while Viktor watches.  
“Yo Viktor, what's going on?” asks Plisetsky.  
“Katsuki is making us dinner, his family's famous katsudon,” replies Viktor.  
“Whoa! He didn't cook at all at my place. Aren't you freaking out that he's making a mess?” continues Plisetsky, pointing at the counters.  
“Kitchens are for making a mess. It's like sex, if it's not messy, you're not doing it right,” answers Viktor, watching Katsuki's reaction.  
“Ouch!” yelps Katsuki, burning himself, and looking a bit flushed. Viktor comes up beside him, and checks the finger.  
“Do you want me to suck on it?” suggests Viktor's sultrily. Katsuki grabs a dishtowel, and whips it in Viktor's direction.  
“Get out of my kitchen! I need to focus,” orders Katsuki trying to look stern. Viktor smiles at the use of my kitchen.

About an hour later, Katsuki serves three bowls of steamed rice with pork cutlets, chopped chives, and an runny egg on top.  
“Itadakimasu!” says Katsuki. Nikiforov takes a bite, and exclaims,  
“Vkusno!”   
Plisetsky says nothing, but scarfs down the entire bowl.  
“Do you like my kitchen?” questions Nikiforov, enjoying the sudden animation in Katsuki's face.  
“It's wonderful! It's well-designed, the burners are very precise, and your cookware is top-of-the-line. I prefer a slightly smaller chef's knife, and some of your knives need sharpening, including the scissors,” critiques Katsuki.  
“I'll have them sharpened right away,” assures Nikiforov, like he's taking an order from a superior.  
“What does katsudon mean?” asks Plisetsky.  
“Katsu means pork, don means bowl,” replies Katsuki.  
“So your name means pork? Pork-ki? Porky!” giggles Plisetsky.  
“No. The character in my name sounds similar, but means victory,” explains Katsuki.  
“Whatever. I'm calling you Katsudon from now on,” announces Plisetsky, serving himself another bowl of food.

One advantage of living at Nikiforov's is the high-tech washer and dryer. After taking a shower, Yuri puts on a yukata, and puts all of his clothing in the washer. There are dozens of buttons, all written in Cyrillic, the script used in Russian. Yuri pushes several buttons, till the machine seems to be working. About an hour later, Yuri checks the machine, and it is still washing. He waits another hour, then reluctantly asks for Nikiforov's help.  
“Most machines take 45 minutes, why is it taking so long?” asks Yuri.  
“This is a programmable machine. You set it for an 4 hour wash cycle, which I didn't even know was possible. I could go online and read the manual as to how to safely interrupt the cycle without flooding the floor. Never mind. I'll just lend you some clothes,” responds Nikiforov. Yuri wishes he could disappear, he's already imposing by using the guest room.

Viktor pulls out a midnight blue V-neck sweater and exercise pants. He hands the clothes to Katsuki. Katsuki looks like a chastised child, and goes to change. Viktor grabs Plisetsky, and forces him to wash the dishes. Katsuki comes out wearing Viktor's elegant sportswear. Usually Katsuki has a way of hiding in his clothes which makes him invisible. But for some reason, this outfit comes off as casually sexy. The shirt is hanging off one shoulder and the pants are hanging low on his hips clearly showing the lack of undergarments. Katsuki's hair is a bit damp from the shower, and slicked back. Then Katsuki takes both hands and rubs them over the front of the sweater. Viktor feels himself staring, and he hears Plisetsky gulp. Viktor whips his head towards Plisetsky, who looks at him guiltily.  
“I can't help it, he's not my type but… look at him. He looks like he's about to do a sexy calendar photo shoot,” whispers Plisetsky.  
“Viktor, your sweater is soooo soft,” comments Katsuki. “Why are you both staring at me?”  
“Keep my clothes … they suit you,” replies Viktor, wondering how to get rid of Plisetsky.

Feeling in debt towards Nikiforov, Yuri does all the laundry. It's easy to distinguish the Russian's expensive elegant clothes from his own. He folds all of Nikiforov's items, and knocks on the other man's bedroom door.  
“Come in,” Nikiforov calls out. Yuri walks into the bedroom, observing the beautiful simplicity of the room. The bed has metal pipes forming a simple tall structure over the white bedspread. Several metal pipes hang from the ceiling with bulbs. The walls are white, with wood flooring. There's one simple black and white photograph of a male ballet dancer with his arms lifted and legs croisés derrière with a loopy signature.  
“Rudolf Nureyev, he danced at the Mariinsky when it was called the Kirov. What he lacked in finesse he made up for in personality and passion,” informs Viktor.  
“He's famous, but his dancing didn't appeal to me,” responds Yuri, placing the laundry on the bed. Yuri stares at the bedspread for a moment. For some reason, Yuri is attracted to Nikiforov's dancing, and his body, but also the objects that surround the Russian. Yuri wants to lie down on that soft white bed… white… very white… so different from… colorful red woven fabrics, different oriental designs, piled one on top of the other…  
“Yuri!” The sound wakes him up, like he'd been half-asleep.  
“I'm sorry, I was daydreaming for a moment,” apologizes Yuri. Nikiforov looks at him with concern.  
“Go to bed and get some sleep,” orders Nikiforov.

The next evening, Viktor cooks dinner. Katsuki sits on the couch at an angle, watching him work.  
“I should stretch,” Katsuki chastises himself. Katsuki grabs a couch cushion, places it under one ankle, to deepen his splits. Makkachin comes over to be petted, expecting attention from Katsuki being at her level.  
“Would you like to borrow my foam roller?” Viktor says, wincing at the sight of his costly couch cushions on the floor.  
“No thanks! But if you could hand me my elastic bands…”

Yuri stretches his hamstrings, but finds his gaze wandering back to the man in the kitchen. Why does everything Nikiforov do seem sexy? Maybe years of not having a sex life has twisted his desires. After all, he was turned on by the darn kitchen. Nikiforov is wearing workout pants and a tight black shirt, perfectly fitted and of a luxurious fabric. He is chopping leaks, carrots, golden beets and a few other ingredients to make a soup. Yuri finds himself gazing at Nikiforov's behind. He surprises himself, ever since moving to St. Petersburg, he's been more bold. Plus, he is more relaxed when Nikiforov is preoccupied with something else.  
“Let me know next time you make soup, I'll bake some bread early in the day,” remarks Yuri. Nikiforov nods, then points to a baguette.  
“I bought some fresh bread, I'll heat it up to produce the smell you love,” says Nikiforov with a grin. Yuri fills a tingly thrill go up his spine. Even if Nikiforov pursued him for all the wrong reasons, he is very good at making Yuri feel special.


	6. Chapter 6: Ballet Assignments

“I've been looking at the scheduled ballets. The Mariinsky II will be presenting Carmen Suite, Sleeping Beauty, and the Nutcracker. The old Mariinsky will be showing Le Corsaire, Giselle and Swan Lake. Which ballets would you like to perform in?” asks Nikiforov.  
“I'd prefer to be in the old Mariinsky! Not only do I prefer the venue, but I like those ballets better. I lack the sexiness to do Carmen, and I've danced the mice so much in the Nutcracker, I've had nightmares of being chased by cats,” jokes Yuri. Nikiforov seems pleased by Yuri's answer.  
“I agree. The new Mariinsky has amazing acoustics, but lacks personality. I will talk to Yakov tomorrow,” replies Nikiforov. Yuri laughs. There is a strict hierarchy in the ballet world, and art directors never care which roles their dancers want.

The next day, roles and assignments are posted near the dressing rooms. A huge group of dancers is crowded around the board, examining and discussing who got what roles. As Yuri gets close, the other dancers become silent, and look resentful. Not understanding, Yuri peers at the board. It takes him a while to figure out, because it is written in Cyrillic.

Le Corsaire: Conrad, Viktor Nikiforov  
Le Corsaire: Medora, Mila Babicheva  
Le Corsaire: Ali(Conrad's slave), Yuri Katsuki  
...  
Giselle: Albrecht, Viktor Nikiforov  
Giselle: Giselle, Mila Babicheva  
Giselle: Hilarion, Yuri Katsuki  
...  
Swan Lake: Siegfried, Viktor Nikiforov  
Swan Lake: Odette/Odile, Mila Babicheva  
Swan Lake: von Rothbart, Gorgi Popovich  
Swan Lake: Jester, Yuri Katsuki  
...  
Sleeping Beauty: Carabosse, Gorgi Popovich  
...  
Greek Love(Working Title): roles to be determined, Viktor Nikiforov, Yuri Katsuki, Yulia Shirinkina

Yuri's heart begins to pound, and sweat pours in his armpits. That Nikiforov has garnered the best roles is a given, but that Yuri has been given great supporting roles in the same ballets is shocking. Yuri feels the beginnings of a panic attack, as he avoids the gazes of those around him. Suddenly, someone grabs his arm and pulls him away.  
“Drink some water,” orders Mila, observing him carefully. “You seem surprised by the board.”  
“I… I… I've never danced those roles. I've been stuck in the corps de ballet, dancing background roles. There are so many more talented dancers here, it makes me wonder if…” Yuri tails off.  
“If Viktor got you those roles?”  
“Yes, but… why would Mister Feltsman agree to that?”  
“Katsuki, Feltsman may seem intimidating. But you should ask him about the assignments.”

Yuri hates to question someone in a position of authority, but this has to be a mistake. He reluctantly walks to Yakov Feltsman's office, and knocks on the door.  
“Come in!” yells Feltsman, surprised to see Katsuki. “Already here to complain about your roles? Dancers are so emotional, they always make a scene about not getting what they want.”  
Yuri is extremely nervous, and manages to whisper,  
“There's been a mistake. I've been given supporting roles next to Nikiforov. I'm new here, I should be in the corps de ballet.”  
Feltsman laughs.  
“You're different! Too modest or no confidence? Katsuki, you're a very good dancer, but I found you boring in the beginning. But when I switched you to the principals' class, you shined. You and Viktor have chemistry, whether in class or on stage. Viktor is always good but, when you're around, he really performs! I will work you ragged, and you'll be amazed by the results! Now get out of here. I'm sure there is already a line of dancers crying of rage out there.”  
Yuri leaves the office in shock. To be given the chance of a lifetime, to dance those amazing roles next to Nikiforov… He must be dreaming. 

Christophe checks the board and sees he has a minor role in the Nutcracker and Le Corsaire, otherwise he is Gorgi Popovich's understudy. That's it. Enraged, he sends off an email.

Once back at the apartment, Yuri notices a new email on his phone.

To: Yuri Katsuki  
From: Christophe Giacometti

Dear Yuri,  
it has come to my attention that you are living with my friend, Viktor Nikiforov. I am terribly surprised! He is very protective of his personal space, and rarely lets people visit him. I am worried that you imagine you are special, or that Viktor has developed feelings for you. Actually, we have wagered against your virginity,  
a concerned acquaintance  
Christophe

Once back at the apartment, Yuri orders a giant poster of James Whiteside, ABT principal dancer. The gay dancer is wearing a leopard crop top and a black tutu, and giving the middle finger with both hands. Yuri is still in a foul mood the next day. He barely says hello to Nikiforov or Plisetsky. In class his energy boils over, making him over rotate his turns. 

Viktor watches Katsuki fume, and quips with Mila,  
“Mila, I'm basically married. Katsuki makes dinner, I clean up. We never have sex, and our teenage son won't do the laundry,” jests Viktor before class. Mila laughs.  
“Poor Viktor, your spouse is upset today. Did you forget to take out the trash?” quips Mila.  
“I'm not sure what I did wrong – but isn't that what all husbands say?” replies Viktor, observing Katsuki from across the room.  
“Well, I'm glad you finally got married, and the best part is I didn't even have to buy you a gift,” says Mila with a giggle.

Arriving late at the apartment, Viktor shoves some rubles into Plisetsky's hands,  
“Go buy us some dinner,” orders Viktor.  
“What? I need a shower, and…” protests Plisetsky. Viktor closes the door on him. Plisetsky grumbles and leaves.  
“Yuri… I mean, Katsuki-san, what have I done?” questions Viktor.  
“Nothing! Just your usual… machinations,” growls Katsuki, who enters his room then slams the door. Viktor walks over, opens the door, and demands,  
“I want specifics.”  
Katsuki seems incensed at being followed into his own room. He snaps,  
“Get out! I'm fed up with your lies.” Katsuki looks around, desperately wanting to throw something. He notices his phone, then brings up Christophe's email. “I know about your bet. I want nothing to do with you.” Katsuki shoves the phone in Viktor's hand, then pushes him out the door and locks it.

Viktor reads the email, surprised Christophe has shown his hand. Then for good measure, he reads all the emails for the last few months. It would be good to know Katsuki's password, so he could monitor what other people are saying about him. Viktor knocks on the bedroom door. After a long moment, Katsuki opens the bedroom door.  
“Shall I apologize for making a bet about you?” asks Viktor, in a conciliatory tone.  
“What would be the point? You don't regret your actions,” growls Katsuki. Viktor nods in agreement.  
“True. I'm more upset about you finding out, then my bad behavior,” acknowledges Viktor.  
“Nikiforov, people are not toys! If I'm to stay here, I need you to be honest. Honest about your intentions, truthful in your answers,” establishes Katsuki.  
“Mmm, difficult. I will try. I've made a habit of flattery and deceit. It's not so much that I lie, as I conceal the truth.”  
Yuri comes within a few steps of Viktor, and looks him straight in the eye.  
“Are you still trying to win that bet?” demands Katsuki.  
“Yes.”  
“Even against my wishes? Even after I said I'll never have sex with you?” replies Katsuki with outrage.  
Viktor pauses, reflecting on his actions.  
“Actually, I've never gone against your wishes. I could have easily had sex with you in Venice, I knew enough about you to seduce you for one night. But you would've hated me the next day. Or more exactly, you would've hated yourself.” Viktor closes the gap between them, till he is looking very closely into Katsuki's eyes. “You're lying when you say you'll never have sex with me. We both know we're going to end up in bed. That has nothing to do with the bet, it has to do with the crazy attraction between us. You need to be honest as well.”  
Viktor hovers near for a moment, while Katsuki unconsciously licks his lips. Viktor adds,  
“I'll wait for you to make the next move.” Viktor hands Katsuki his phone, leaves, closing the door.

Yuri rubs his lips, then turns around and throws himself on his bed. Even angry and disappointed, he had been so close to tugging Nikiforov's shirt and kissing him. He hides his face in the covers, disgusted with himself, while his body hums with sexual tension.


	7. Chapter 7: White Nights

The next morning, Katsuki still appears to be in a foul mood.  
“Why are you so upset? You suspected a bet to begin with…” remarks Viktor, acting unconcerned.  
“I don't like to be used. And Christophe is… a very hypocritical person. How did he get my email address?” growls Katsuki.  
“I don't know. I've never seen you angry before… You're making progress,” praises Viktor, as if Katsuki were a good dog. Plisetsky shows up, yawning and stretching.  
“How is Katsudon making progress?” quizzes Plisetsky.  
“He feels comfortable enough to tell me off,” explains Viktor.  
“In that case, I should help him. I like it when people put Viktor in his place,” affirms Plisetsky, sticking his tongue out at Viktor behind his back.

That evening, Plisetsky interrogates Katsuki at dinner.  
“So Katsudon, you're single, right?” questions Plisetsky.  
“Ah, …yes, I am,” confirms Katsuki.  
“What kind of guys do you like?” continues Plisetsky. Viktor frowns at this conversation.  
“Oh, I don't know… Wait! What makes you think I date guys? I date women,” squeaks Katsuki.  
“Really? I guess I could set you up with a woman, Gullnaz or Irina... Do you like big hairy men?” wonders Plisetsky.  
“Oh… not really,” responds Katsuki, picturing Nishigori.  
“What about skinny little boys?” smirks Plisetsky. Katsuki shakes his head, horrified. “Mature and pretty, like Viktor?”  
“Perhaps,” replies Katsuki, avoiding looking at Nikiforov.  
“I want you to meet a friend of mine. He dances at the Mariinsky. Super sweet and totally hot!” exclaims Plisetsky.  
“Katsuki is too shy to go on dates,” objects Nikiforov.  
“Come on Katsudon! I'll do all the talking, just tag along. One quick coffee after training. You promised you'd break out of your shell…” Plisetsky says persuasively. Katsuki desperately wants to hide under the table. But Viktor is watching him, and Viktor is dating, so he blurts out in one breath,  
“Okay I'll go - but I only want to meet nice respectable people looking for a good relationship and who really like dogs!”

At lunchtime, Plisetsky drags Katsuki to meet a dark-haired ballerina, severe and elegant.  
“Katsuki, I'd like you to introduce you to Gullnaz Zhuravleva, originally from the Ukraine. She is famous for her incredible precision in her footwork. Gullnaz, this is Yuri Katsuki from Japan. His dancing is very expressive,” introduces Plisetsky. Katsuki is amazed at how mature the teenager suddenly acts. Gullnaz stares at him very intently.  
“You have a good heart. You need to strengthen your will, which is possible. However… you are blue. I'm sorry, I will not go out with you,” she says in a deep voice. Gullnaz nods her head, and gracefully exits the room. Plisetsky looks after her starry eyed.  
“I adore her. Maybe one day I'll get to partner her,” says Plisetsky hopefully.  
“She's… intense and a little odd, but ...perceptive. Why did she say I was blue?” questions Katsuki.  
“In Russia, gay men used to wear light blue,” explains Plisetsky. Katsuki pales.  
“She thinks I'm gay?” worries Katsuki. He hopes his attraction to Nikiforov isn't obvious to everyone.

The next day Plisetsky introduces Katsuki to Irina, a willowy chatty blonde. She seems to smile and flirt with everyone.  
“My gorgeous little angel, will you do Nutcracker this year? You're still young enough to play Fritz, Masha's brother,” Irina greets Plisetsky, stroking his blonde hair.  
“I hope so, most ballets don't have any parts for teenagers. I hope I will be very tall, so I can partner all the ballerinas. Have you met Katsuki?” introduces Plisetsky, gesturing for Katsuki to come closer. Katsuki nods comfortably while Irina chats, but he feels no attraction. Katsuki bows to Irina, and leaves with Plisetsky.  
“They are both lovely women but…” Katsuki lacks the words to describe his feelings. Plisetsky smirks at him.  
“See you tonight,” he yells to Katsuki, running off.

In summer, St. Petersburg is alive with festivals and artistic events. People stay out all night enjoying the glowing luminescence of the white nights. The city is dotted with cafés near the Neva river which flows through the city in several branches. Plisetsky drags him to a nearby café, where they sit and order. Katsuki is about to jump up and run away, when a handsome young man joins them. He has shiny brown hair that curl around his face, hazel eyes, lush lips and a friendly smile.  
“Vasily, meet Yuri Katsuki. Vasily Machenko is a soloist with the Mariinsky Ballet,” introduces Plisetsky, curious as to Katsuki's reaction.  
“Pleased to meet you,” mumbles Katsuki, keeping his eyes on the table.  
“Plisetsky tells me that you used to dance with ABT, I'm performing in Spartacus right now. Have you seen it?” asks Vasily, with a warm smile. Katsuki shakes his head.  
“You must come and see me dance! What is your favorite ballet?” continues Vasily. Katsuki thinks for a minute.  
“Le Corsaire, because of the Ali variation,” he finally answers, barely above a whisper.  
“Of course! What about you, Plisetsky?” probes Vasily.

The three of them chat, mostly about ballet. Yuri relaxes quickly, Vasily seems so harmless and friendly.  
“I can't tell how late it is, with the sun not setting. If I don't set an alarm, it doesn't seem like time to go to bed,” remarks Yuri.  
“It is fun to see people party all night, in the cafés, bars and restaurants,” replies Vasily. “It's my favorite time of year.”  
Katsuki can't believe how quickly time passes, and soon they are returning to the apartment.  
“Vasily was very nice. I'm surprised he wanted to meet me,” remarks Katsuki. Plisetsky turns on his phone, and shows a video of Katsuki in class.  
“Vasily was impressed by your dancing,” explains Plisetsky.   
“Plisetsky, ask me before videotaping me, please!” protests Yuri, embarrassed yet pleased.

To: Phichit Chulanont  
From: Katsuki Yuri

Dear Phichit,  
I might be gay. The thought is liberating in some ways, as if trying to be straight somehow was weighing me down. But it also makes me feel alone, as if once again I have been ostracized from the regular world. Growing up I was often lonely, and I felt like an outsider peering in… If I marry a woman and have a child, I could fit into society. How's it going in New York? 

Dear Yuri,  
I'm doing well, although I have some inflammation in the arch of my foot. There's no rush to deciding who you are, or what you feel. Maybe there is a woman who would be right for you, I understand the appeal of normality. I'm envious of your amazing solos, I am auditioning for a stage production of the King and I. Wish me luck!

Dear Phichit,  
how did you learn of my solo assignments? Are you spying on me? Break a leg.

Dear Yuri,  
I follow your new social media page. Who is taking photos of you? You've never been any good at taking selfies.

Yuri rereads the last email puzzled. He types in his own name in a search engine, and finds a social media page with his name on it. It has a surprising amount of followers, and shows photos of Yuri working out in class, and rehearsing Le Corsaire. The photography is good, and shows Yuri in a flattering light. There is even a photo of Yuri sleeping on the couch. The scene is intimate, the kind of portrait a lover would take. There's only one person who could have taken all these pictures. Yuri rubs his lips with his fingers, his body tingling with awareness.

The day after the date, Mila corners Katsuki before dance class.  
“How did you get along with sweet Vasily?” she asks, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.  
“I'd rather keep my professional and private life separate,” replies Katsuki, surprised she already knows the gossip.  
“Impossible! Most dancers are dating people in the company. No one else has the time and patience to deal with our ballet obsession. I tried to date a hockey player, but our schedules didn't match up, and he was bothered by my stretching in public places. Remember Gorgi Popovich? He is dating that ballerina over there, Anya. But rumor has it she actually likes Dmitri over there, who is currently dating Valeria or Polina depending on who you talk to…” gossips Mila excitedly.

The next afternoon, Yuri begins learning the Ali variation for Le Corsaire. During a break, he notices Vasily observing in the doorway.  
“Unfortunately, I've been cast in the ballets you're not in. Is this variation the only reason why Le Corsaire is your favorite ballet?” asks Vasily, continuing yesterday's conversation. Yuri gets a drink of water, and responds,  
“I'd been dancing for years, when I saw the Prix de Lausanne on television. A young man danced the Ali variation, and won the competition. He was wearing blue harem pants and a little plume on his head, and I was transfixed. I decided at that moment to become a professional ballet dancer,” remembers Yuri. Vasily smiles, and runs back to his own rehearsal. Nikiforov comes up next to Yuri.  
“I was 17 when I won that competition, I still have those blue harem pants, but they're a bit too small. They might fit you…” Nikiforov murmurs suggestively. Yuri blanches.  
“Oh no! I've never… worn an outfit like that, will they let me wear a shirt?” questions Yuri, realizing that dancing the Ali variation means dancing bare chested.  
“Absolutely not! I'm a stickler for proper costuming…” Nikiforov insists, “anyway, we are always naked in front of an audience.”

Later at lunch, Yuri approaches Vasily.  
“You dance in Spartacus, aren't the costumes a little bit… revealing? Doesn't that make you uncomfortable?” wonders Yuri. Vasily shakes his head.  
“Aren't most dancers exhibitionists? I've heard at a performance of Giselle, Yakov yelled at Viktor for wearing the wrong colored tights, then Viktor got upset because his top was improperly sewn together. In the middle of dress rehearsal, he took off everything but his dance belt, and finished the performance that way…” laughs Vasily, recounting the tale. “Someone took a video on their phone.”  
Yuri swallows the wrong way, and coughs for a while. He quickly excuses himself, and hides in a bathroom stall. It's hard to focus on Vasily, when everything reminds him of Nikiforov. Yuri has streamed that almost naked dance video too many times to count.

Later that week,Vasily invites Yuri to his apartment, which he shares with his sister. It is tiny, and dominated by a large piano. Yuri is at first worried about possible intimacy, but Vasily's sister greets him warmly and never leaves them alone.  
“Svetlana, this is Yuri Katsuki, Svetlana is my older sister. Do we have any tea?” introduces Vasily, leaving to make the beverage.  
“Another ballet dancer? Wonderful! I'm an accompanist, and also teach piano,” replies Svetlana, with the same easy smile as her brother. Vasily comes back with some cups of tea.  
“Tell me Yuri, do you have a favorite ballet?” asks Svetlana, like an echo of her brother. Yuri's brain has been working overtime, processing the previous conversation with Vasily. So he explains,  
“I have an emotional attachment to Le Corsaire, but it's not really the best ballet. I like the choreographic elements of the Firebird, but musically, Tchaikovsky has the dreamiest melodies. Costume wise, La Bayadère has the most sumptuous outfits with Oriental splendor. Although intellectually, some of the new productions like Eugene Onegin are quite interesting…” Yuri stops himself, realizing he's probably said too much. Svetlana grins.  
“Brother, he's smart and cute…you should have paid attention in school. Do you like girls?” Svetlana asks flirtatiously.  
“Don't you dare Svetta, I really like this one,” replies Vasily, pushing her out of her chair to sit next to Yuri. “Though to be honest, I'm already having trouble keeping up intellectually… I'll try to impress him with music instead.” Vasily hops up, sits down at the piano, and plays some Chopin. Yuri enjoys the cascading notes pouring from the instrument. He finds this the most appealing aspect to Vasily, he's never had anyone play for him before.

Yuri and Vasily continue to meet regularly at the coffeehouse. One time, Yuri is waiting, but gets a text message that Vasily has to cancel. A tall blonde man sits down next to him.  
“Hey, I'm Egor Krasnitski, I'm an ice dancer and in excellent shape,” the man introduces himself.  
“Oh! I'm Katsuki. I'm a …dancer,” replies Yuri, uncertain how to react.  
“Would you like to work out together?” insinuates Egor. Yuri replies honestly,  
“I only follow a very specific regimen laid out by the ballet mistress. So sorry.”  
“What a polite fuck off! I'll be going,” announces Egor. Yuri immediately looks contrite.  
“I could… I mean… would you like to talk?” offers Yuri apologetically.  
“Talk about what?” grunts Egor.  
“Muscle training? We have to be careful to maintain our flexibility while…” Yuri babbles about resistance training.

Later that week, Yuri comes home and sees Nikiforov watching an ice dancing pair on his laptop. They are wearing clownish versions of indigenous clothes, with fake plants and warpaint. Nikiforov shakes his head in disgust.  
“Poshlost!” says Nikiforov.  
“What does that mean?” questions Yuri.  
“It's hard to describe, it's when ...someone thinks it's elegant and classy but it's actually vulgar.”  
“Wait! I met him – Egor Krasnitski, we had coffee not too long ago,” exclaims Yuri.  
“Stay away from him, Yuri. He's not very nice.”  
“Is that so? You must've dated him.”  
“I still am,” corrects Nikiforov with a grimace. Yuri recoils in surprise.   
“Are you dating anyone at the Mariinsky? I'm not trying to pry into your personal life, but I don't want us to date the same people,” inquires Yuri, not really wanting to know.  
“Not anymore. Several years ago, I got involved with a principal dancer, who toyed with me and broke my heart. I responded by bedding every willing boy at the Mariinsky. Yakov was going to demote me, when a video of me performing almost naked at a rehearsal went viral. All my performances sold out, so Yakov and I made a deal: I'm not to date anyone at the Mariinsky.”  
Irritated, Yuri returns to his room. He turns on his computer, and buys another poster, a black and white print of bad boy Sergei Polunin dancing naked.

Later that week, Viktor arranges to see Egor. Viktor arrives at the other man's apartment, only to be waived in hurriedly.  
“I'm only available for an hour,” explains Egor, pulling down his pants and facing the wall.  
“You met Yuri Katsuki?” inquires Viktor, undoing his own pants.  
“Ah yes. He's like a sweet young maiden wanting to get married. Not my type. Shut up and fuck me.”  
Sometime later, Viktor is lying naked on top of Egor. He gets out his phone and texts,

Viktor Nikiforov: You're on my mind, what are you doing this evening?  
Katsuki Yuri: I am walking along the edge of the Neva river. The seagulls remind me of home. I'm glad St. Petersburg is near the water, the ocean is so powerful, yet beautiful…

Wanting to forget Nikiforov, Yuri phones Phichit.  
“Phichitto-kun! I've been dating! The days are so long here during the summer, all the cafés and bars stay open at least till midnight. We have special curtains to keep the light out, it never gets dark at night.”  
“What about the dates? Who did you like best?” inquires Phichit gleefully.  
“Well, the ice dancer and I spent the whole time talking about fitness training, aside from that, we didn't hit it off. Irina is sweet, but there's no connection. I kind of like the soloist, we talked easily, and he is really good-looking, but he's a bit young for me… I never thought Yuri Plisetsky would be a good matchmaker, but he's pretty insightful for someone so young, and he seems to know everyone!”


	8. Chapter 8: Shall We Dance?

“Hey Yakov! How is Viktor's boy toy?” demands Plisetsky. Yakov winces at being called so familiarly by Lilia's protégé. Nonetheless he replies,  
“Katsuki is a decent dancer and, Vitya seems particularly inspired in his presence…How are the repairs going at your apartment?”  
“Complete crap. The reason the rent is so low is the landlord refuses to fix anything.”  
“Well, I need to remove you from Viktor's apartment, you shouldn't stay with someone with his reputation. I will talk to Lilia, maybe she will allow you to stay with us.”  
“She scares the crap out of me, I'm glad she's on my side,” mutters Plisetsky.

Later that day,Viktor corners Plisetsky.  
“What do you want?” asks Viktor with a no-nonsense tone.  
“Besides torturing you? I want a role in your new choreography. In return, I'll move out,” offers Plisetsky. Viktor mentally reviews his choreography so far.  
“No good. Katsuki will move out with you,” decides Viktor.  
“Not where I'm going,” replies Plisetsky, grimacing at the thought of living with Lilia.

That evening, Viktor announces,  
“Plisetsky is moving in with Lilia and Yakov, Lilia is doing some special training program with him in preparation for competition. You're welcome to stay as my roommate.”  
Katsuki looks uncertain, and hesitantly asks,  
“Won't it be awkward for us to live together?”  
“We just need to establish some rules, like in Hasetsu. No seducing in the apartment, and no bringing home dates. I told you already, I don't like to bring guys to my home,” reiterates Viktor, noticing that Katsuki is an exception. Viktor actually enjoys having him around...  
“What about payment? I was contributing to Plisetsky's rent,” wonders Katsuki.  
“I don't need money, but I do like your cooking. How about you make dinner a few times a week?” offers Viktor. Katsuki smiles broadly, seemingly excited by the prospect of making meals. Viktor looks over at the kitchen, irritated. Since when is his kitchen more popular than himself?

The first evening without Plisetsky, Katsuki appears extremely nervous. Katsuki sticks to the dog, as if Makkachin will protect him. Viktor groans in frustration. Katsuki has been making great strides in being less shy and more comfortable with people in general, but it doesn't seem to apply to Viktor in particular. Why is Katsuki so afraid? Sex? Curious, Viktor goes to his bedroom and locks the door. He makes a call.  
“Hello, this is Viktor Nikiforov. I would like to speak to Doctor Gannushkin.”  
“Viktor, we haven't spoken in a long time,” says Doctor Gannushkin pleasantly.  
“Yes, my problems with anxiety have been manageable. I would like your opinion on why somebody would be very afraid of sex, or any type of touching.”  
“Difficult to say without a background history. But in my experience, most often it is due to trauma. Some kind of negative experience. The subject may or may not even remember the event, but physical closeness will trigger a physical reaction,” expounds the doctor.  
“I imagine it takes years of expensive therapy to overcome such a thing,” Viktor responds sarcastically.  
“Not necessarily. If the person trusts you and is willing to approach the matter in a slow and well communicated way, therapy may be recommended but not necessary. Although it depends on the gravity of the situation. Call and make an appointment soon,” ends the doctor professionally.

Yuri cheerily makes dinner, ridiculously happy he has been asked to stay in Nikiforov's apartment. As they sit down to eat, Makkachin sits at their feet, ready for any food droppage.  
“So when did you start having panic attacks?” questions Nikiforov. Yuri looks up, and immediately becomes guarded, wary.  
“And why did you become mean?” Yuri sallies back, then gets nervous and eats a bite of food.   
“It bothers you to talk about the panic attacks, or the cause?” continues Nikiforov.  
“What bothers me is the reason you're asking,” explains Yuri. Nikiforov arches his brow, obviously wanting an explanation. Yuri continues,  
“You don't just sleep around. You use your intelligence and your powers of observation to seduce hearts and minds. Then you discard them, seeing their vulnerability as weakness. You don't truly want to know me, you're trying to find the flaws in my armor.”  
“My, my! You've changed. You used to be unable to talk to me, let alone argue with me,” comments Nikiforov, seemingly impressed.  
“It's easier now that you're no longer my idol. I worshiped a dancer without a personality. Now you're flesh and blood, and full of flaws,” acknowledges Yuri. Nikiforov continues between bites, thinking out loud,  
“I'm not trying to make people fall in love with me. I make men acknowledge their own dark sides, I allow them to fulfill their secret desires. I accept people the way they are… and they love me for it. Then, my work is done and I move on. That's why Christophe and I get along, we're similar.”  
“I disagree. Giacometti is gripped by greed, or some other dark need. Your malaise is harder to pinpoint. It's not rooted in a bad childhood or terrible heartbreak. It's more of a discontent with the universe, like your soul isn't at rest…” Yuri shakes his head, unable to find the right words.  
“Toska. Spiritual suffering without any cause, a vague terrible longing,” Nikiforov says sardonically, “a famously untranslatable word used by Nabokov. You make me sound very Russian.”  
“Ya izuchayu Ruskiy,” replies Yuri with a Japanese accent, telling him I'm learning Russian.

The next afternoon, Yuri waits around the studio with Yakov, Yulia and Plisetsky to see the new choreography. Nikiforov comes up to him and says,  
“This is a ballet in 4 acts: Storge, Philia, Eros, Agape. The first part of the dance shows the love of family. Yulia will play my wife, Plisetsky will play my son. In the second act, Katsuki and I will dance to show friendship. In the third act, Katsuki and Yulia have an affair, tempted by desire. Left alone, I dance the final part, trying to find a transcendent, all encompassing love.”  
Viktor takes a beginning pose in the middle of the studio.  
“This is my final variation called Agape,” introduces Viktor. He performs a beautiful angelic and excruciatingly long routine. Yuri is astounded by the difficulty level.   
“This is Katsuki's variation from Eros,” continues Viktor, slightly out of breath. Then Nikiforov dances a Latin inspired routine for Yuri. Yuri is overwhelmed by the performance. Watching Nikiforov is always a pleasure, but it's unusual for him to perform so sensually, and Katsuki feels his body tingling with arousal. But Yuri can't fathom how he'll be able to perform such a provocative dance. Meanwhile, Feltsman shrugs, and comments,  
“Viktor thinks you have a passion in you that needs to be released.”  
Yuri feels his face flushing, and walks over to Nikiforov.  
“That routine is not appropriate for me! It's one thing for you to play games in our personal lives, but quite another for you to mess with my dancing,” scolds Yuri, trying to keep his voice low.  
“I disagree. You're still dancing like you're a boy, not using your full potential. You could show everyone you're meant to be a principal dancer, if you have the guts to be sexy…” argues Viktor. Yuri stands there, knowing he's being played. Nikiforov watches Yuri's face, amused by the struggle. Yuri clenches his fists, and replies,  
“I'll do it, but you help me with my partner work. Deal?”  
Nikiforov grins at this offer, and nods his head in assent.  
“Oh, and Nikiforov? Your emotional delivery of Agape was not believable,” critiques Yuri. “You can't fake unconditional love.” As Yuri walks out of the room, Feltsman adds,  
“Vitya, you still have a long way to go with relationships.”

A few days later, Vasily gives Yuri two tickets to watch him perform in Spartacus.  
“I'm part of the company, I can just watch from the wings,” protests Yuri.  
“Don't worry, someone gave them to me for free. The other ticket is for Plisetsky,” says Vasily with an eager look. However, on the night of the performance, Lilia blocks Plisetsky from attending.  
“I'm sorry, he is preparing for the Moscow International Ballet Competition,” Lilia says with the force of her authority. Plisetsky looks annoyed and disappointed. Katsuki goes to the theater alone. He likes the huge onyx wall in the lobby, but the theater itself is rather drab, with gray seats and light wood balconies. He finds his seat, only to find Nikiforov seated next to him.  
“Are you stalking me?” Yuri asks nervously, checking his seat number several times.  
“I'm the one who gave Vasily the tickets,” replies Nikiforov with an arched brow.

Viktor takes note of Katsuki's ugly blue suit. It is outdated, ill fitting, and a horrible shade of blue. There is no dress code at the Mariinsky II, but Viktor is wearing a high-end gray wool suit, perfectly tailored and Testoni goatskin shoes. As the dancing begins, Viktor observes Katsuki with interest. His roommate is responding differently to this ballet than to Sleeping Beauty. Perhaps it is the gladiator costumes, but Katsuki is showing signs of arousal. Pink tinges his cheeks, and tips of the ears are turning red. Viktor is annoyed and jealous. Viktor feels proprietary towards his roommate. It is frustrating not to have what he wants, even more galling for someone else to be garnering Katsuki's attention.

Yuri has seen this ballet before, but usually on the small screen of his laptop. Live performances are so much more raw and… lacking in clothes. Which would be fine but, he can feel Nikiforov's body next to him like a heater. Yuri is getting a crick in his neck from refusing to look to his left. He keeps his eyes on Konstantin Korsuntsev, dancing the role of Spartacus. Nikiforov leans over.  
“What is turning you on, the leather, the naked torsos, or the chains?” murmurs Nikiforov.  
“It must be the dark hair and tanned skin,” retorts Yuri, insinuating Nikiforov could not pull off this role.  
“Yes, I like dark hair too…” whispers Nikiforov near Yuri's ear, resisting the urge to touch Yuri's hair. Once back at the apartment, Yuri orders a poster of the dashing dark haired Carlos Acosta posing as Spartacus in tiny leather armor.

While Katsuki is in the shower, Viktor snoops in Katsuki's bedroom. He's vaguely annoyed by the posters of other ballerinos on the wall, although he recognizes Katsuki is doing it out of rebellion. It's good that Katsuki is losing his idol crush, though Viktor would like to see at least one poster of himself on Katsuki's wall.

The next afternoon, Viktor begins rehearsals for Journey of Love.  
“Katsuki, you'll be dancing with with Yulia Shirinkina. She is one of our most petite dancers, which is good, since you're on the short side compared to us Russians. This is the Eros pas de deux.”  
Yulia has mousy brown hair, snub nose, and irregular shape to her face. She is quiet, but very determined. Katsuki learns the choreography for Journey of Love , then the variations for Le Corsaire. He pushes himself to his limit day after day, till they are doing a rehearsal on stage, and he has a bad fall leaving the wings. Viktor comes over right away.  
“What happened?” demands Viktor.  
“Piece of scenery was left where I exit the stage. I fell and bumped my head. At least my limbs are all right,” says Katsuki, half joking, half serious, rubbing his forehead. 

Nikiforov finds the tech director, yelling and gesturing in Russian.  
“I've never seen Viktor so upset, or protective of anyone,” comments Mila. Yuri notices Christophe whispering to a group of dancers, which gives him an uneasy feeling. Nikiforov comes over and insists on visiting a doctor, to rule out a concussion. He accompanies Yuri to make sure he gets the best service, since his Russian isn't very good. While waiting at the hospital, Yuri remarks,  
“Nikiforov, your pas de deux with Yulia is a bit awkward. She's a good partner for me, but not for you?” wondering why the Russian principal didn't pick a ballerina better suited to himself.  
“I did that on purpose. It physically shows the audience our marriage is not solid, our pairing doesn't quite work,” explains Nikiforov.

A week later, Katsuki and Yulia are practicing the sexy pas de deux for Eros. Katsuki has the basic mechanics of the movements down, but is completely lacking the emotional aspect. Viktor teaches,  
“In class, we work on technique. On the stage, use your personality to make the audience forget about any flaws in your dancing,” Viktor stops, seeing a blank look on Katsuki's face. He tries another approach.  
“Katsuki, this piece is about sexual attraction. Make the audience believe Yulia is irresistible – which of course you are,” Viktor adds for Yulia's benefit. Yulia nods at the compliment. “Watch me. Every action comes from an emotion. I desire her, but she belongs to someone else, I think about my friend, but then I follow my baser instincts…” Viktor performs the routine, caressing her cheek and devouring her longingly with his eyes. Then he goes over to Katsuki and whispers,   
“Acting! I find her as attractive as a turnip in a tutu.”  
Katsuki tries again, but fails to show any emotion.  
“Yulia, would you go into the other room and take a break? We need a moment,” requests Viktor.

Yuri plops onto the ground to stretch, frustrated with his performance. Nikiforov motions to come over,  
“Try again with me as Yulia,” orders Nikiforov.  
“I can't lift you,” grumbles Yuri. Yuri begins the choreography, stroking Nikiforov's cheek, turning, doing an arabesque and looking into Nikiforov's eyes. “Someone will see us.”  
“Don't worry about that. That was better, try the female part this time,” orders Nikiforov. Reluctantly, Yuri does. But when Nikiforov caresses Yuri's cheek, and regards him longingly, Yuri's body begins to heat up. Nikiforov lifts him like a feather, and it's… thrilling. He's going to fantasize about this for the rest of his life.  
“Yes! Let's try again with Yulia,” enthuses Nikiforov. Yuri repeats the dance with Yulia, but becomes awkward again. How can Yuri make this work? Especially with Nikiforov staring at him… It doesn't work to imagine Yulia is Nikiforov. Maybe he should try to make the other man jealous. He flirts with her, hoping to make Nikiforov uncomfortable.  
“Progress! We're going to make a lover out of you yet,” Nikiforov announces loudly.

After the rehearsal, Yulia comes up to see Yuri.  
“I know there's a problem with our pairing,” acknowledges Yulia, looking downcast. Yuri feels a jolt of panic. Does everyone in Russia think he's gay?  
“I see. Would… would you like to discuss it?” asks Yuri awkwardly.  
“Yes. My technique is good, and I have good lines, but my face… is very plain. People want to see beautiful ballerina. But I tell you, I can be pretty when I dance. Trust me,” she says earnestly. Yuri simply freezes from this information.  
“Of course. I will do my best,” responds Yuri, wishing he could say something more gallant.

Lilia encounters Yakov in the hallway.  
“How is Viktor's new ballet?” she demands.  
“When I look at it from Katsuki's role, everything's fine. Viktor and Yulia are a happily married couple, Katsuki is his friend who falls in love with his wife. Viktor turns to a higher power in search of love.”  
“But it's different when viewed from Viktor's role?” quickly picks up Lilia.  
“Yes. Viktor is married but is actually in love with his friend Katsuki. When Katsuki has an affair with his wife, he is upset at Katsuki's betrayal, not his wife. Most people won't see it, but it's there if you look for it. The choreography is good, but I have to hide the homosexual subtext,” grumbles Yakov, rubbing his forehead.

Much too soon, it's the opening night for Journey to Love. The old Mariinsky theater is completely full. Yuri peeks at the balconies gilded with gold, glittering chandeliers, and blue velvet covered wooden chairs. Viktor keeps his distance from Katsuki, and mentally goes over his dance, gesturing the basics of the solo. Katsuki is looking more and more nervous. Viktor goes on stage first with Yulia and Plisetsky, and performs flawlessly. Katsuki looks ashen and shaky. Finally Viktor grabs his arm, and pulls him into a side wing.  
“How do I help you?” asks Viktor.  
“I can't do it. I'm going to stumble, and I'm going to embarrass Feltsman. People are already wondering why a Japanese man is performing with the Russians,” says Katsuki, shaking.  
“Katsuki… What do I say? Merde? Break a leg?” questions Viktor helplessly. Katsuki begins to cry, completely losing control. Viktor pulls him into his arms, and holds him for a while. Katsuki quiets down.  
“Sorry you had to see me like this,” sobs Katsuki.  
“I'm not. You'll probably slap me for the following…” murmurs Viktor, tilting Katsuki's chin up, as if to kiss him, then adds, “It's good you're afraid. We always fear what we most desire, this makes us alive!” Viktor watches Katsuki's face, thinking he's said the wrong thing. But Katsuki reaches up, and rubs a spot on Viktor's face, smoothing it with his thumb. Viktor forgets his concern, feeling a surge of sexual need. Katsuki dries his eyes, and rotates his hips.  
“You smudged your make up. Keep your eyes on me, this performance will be for you,” vows Katsuki. 

Viktor watches Katsuki dance, forgetting about the choreographic details and the audience reaction. All he can see is a beautiful man shining with happiness. Afterwards, he pulls Katsuki aside.  
“You danced well. All dancers have to deal with nerves. When I started performing in various competitions, I used beta blockers,” confides Viktor.  
“Weren't you worried about side effects?” asks Katsuki, panting from exertion.  
“Yes, it did have some unwanted results,” replies Viktor, patting his thinning hair sadly.


	9. Chapter 9: My Lord and Master

Lilia goes to watch the end of the dress rehearsal of Le Corsaire. She stands next to Yakov with her arms crossed.  
“I just harangued the Mariinsky II dancers, the rehearsal for Carmen was dreadful. How is this one?” she asks, surveying the dancers with a steely gaze.  
“Some of the corps de ballet missed their cues, one soloist had her laces come untied, and the lighting is off,” complains Yakov, shaking his head. Then he bellows,  
“Mila, don't go so fast with your pas de bourrée, don't rush and flail around.”  
“How is Viktor performing?” continues Lilia.  
“Besides the parts where he's more interested in his slave boy than in the beautiful Medora, he is dancing well.”

Mila takes a break, heaving from the exertion.  
“I love and hate this terrible ballet. It is completely ridiculous, with happy female slaves leaping around – as if women like to be controlled by men. I hate to answer to a man. On the other hand, the variations are athletic and fun.”  
Yuri nods with understanding.  
“I have fond memories of this ballet, but it feels weird to dance as Viktor's slave,” acknowledges Yuri.  
“My dear Katsuki, remember you are Conrad's slave, not Viktor's,” retorts Mila. Yuri feels his face burn, he is probably a bright shade of scarlet. Mila goes up and down on pointe, then frowns at her left foot.  
“This brand-new pointe shoe is already broken, I'll go get another pair,” she tells Yuri, leaving. Feltsman grunts, throwing his hands in the air.  
“I needed Mila to at least mark her variation, so we can make sure all the other dancers are where they're supposed to be. Where's her understudy?” hollers Feltsman. The dancers shrug their shoulders.  
Nikiforov comes forward, in Mila's position.   
“I'll do it,” announces Nikiforov.  
Yuri watches wide eyed as Nikiforov dances the Medora variation perfectly. Yuri has seen a few men imitate women, usually with a clownish results. But Nikiforov makes it look natural, and elegant.  
“Nikiforov, do you memorize all of Mila's routines?” questions Yuri, again impressed by this man.  
“Not on purpose. Once I see a dance it's imprinted in my mind,” explains Nikiforov.

Opening night of Le Corsaire is nerve-racking for Yuri. This ballet is a huge production, with ornate sets, dozens of dancers, and elaborate costuming. All the seats are sold out, and Yuri's torso is naked, except for a little piece of cloth that looks like a cross between a necklace and a suspender. He stretches and warms up, wishing he could put on a shirt. Viktor comes up beside him.  
“You look nervous. Would you like a hug?” suggests Nikiforov, opening his arms. Yuri shakes his head, and replies,  
“You just want to grope me. I should report you to Feltsman,” growls Yuri.  
“Keep your eyes on me, I'm your master!” smirks Nikiforov, preparing for his entrance. Yuri groans, knowing Mila has gossiped about him. But Nikiforov is making his entrance to much applause. Yuri stops worrying about his own dancing, mesmerized by Nikiforov's performance. It is technically precise, fluid and graceful, Nikiforov's presence demands attention. Enthralled, Yuri forgets to prepare for his entrance, and Mila suddenly shoves him forward. All the nerves, all that energy, are funneled into his jumps. Yuri is leaping and turning, hoping to impress Nikiforov, forgetting for a moment the other people watching.

Mila is waiting in the wings for her entrance, when she spots Plisetsky tucked away in a corner observing the performance. She does a few bourrés toward him.  
“What do you think?” she whispers to him.  
“They remind me of cranes doing a mating dance. They need to get laid,” whispers Plisetsky, rolling his eyes.

The two-hour performance flies by, and suddenly they are all bowing to the audience. Yuri feels like he's waking up from a dream. Nikiforov is mobbed in his dressing room, which now looks like a flower shop. Yuri takes a very long time to remove his makeup and get dressed, hoping Nikiforov will walk home with him. Sometimes two dancers connect in a special way on stage, and for Yuri, it felt like that with Nikiforov. Yuri gets his coat and walks slowly outside. The days are getting shorter, nighttime is reappearing. Suddenly Nikiforov is by his side, obviously avoiding some fans waiting at another entrance.  
“Amazing no? Adoration and applause are better than any drug!” remarks Nikiforov, doing a little hop with a flourish of his arms. Yuri nods, happy to be by his side. They walk in silence, the performance energy still buzzing through them. As they approach the apartment, Nikiforov waves to him.  
“Good night, I'll see you tomorrow,” says Nikiforov, heading quickly across the street. Yuri feels bereft.  
“Of course, oh, good night,” Yuri halfheartedly replies.

Viktor forces himself not to look back. Katsuki had the hurt look of a kicked puppy. Viktor would prefer to go home with Katsuki and passionately possess him, but his virgin roomate is not ready for that. Viktor heads to a pickup bar near a cheap hotel. He quickly makes eye contact with an attractive young man, and leads him over to a hotel room. The sexual encounter is quick and physically satisfying. Viktor has no desire to spend any more time with this stranger. He takes a quick shower, then heads back to the apartment. It feels weird to creep in silently, like a cheating spouse. Katsuki is asleep on the couch with Makkachin beside him. Katsuki and the dog are both snoring slightly.  
“You danced beautifully tonight, so many times I wanted to touch you. We were magical on the stage tonight – everyone felt it. Something is happening between us, I don't know what to do about it. This wasn't part of the plan,” murmurs Viktor. He pets Makkachin, and goes to his bedroom.

Yuri listens attentively, then opens his eyes. After a few minutes, he leaves the couch, and goes to lie down in his bedroom. He desperately wanted to reach out and kiss Nikiforov, only the thought of where the other man had probably been stopped him.

A few days later, Nikiforov dances around aimlessly, rubbing his stomach. His face looks flushed, and he's unable to focus.  
“Vitya! Without rest, even the horse doesn't gallop. Go home. You're sick, leave before you make everyone else sick,” shouts Feltsman. Yuri follows him with his eyes, and continues to dance. Feltsman grunts in annoyance.  
“Katsuki! Focus. Don't waste my time!” Popovich looks at Yuri enviously for getting so much attention. As soon as rehearsals are over, Yuri drops by a pharmacy, then goes to the apartment.

Viktor watches Katsuki plumps his pillows, make soup, and give him medication.  
“You enjoy playing nurse. Do you like having the upper hand?” Viktor asks sardonically, while refusing to eat.  
“I enjoy caring for you without worrying about being… approached,” replies Katsuki with his usual polite candor. Katsuki takes a thermometer, and places it on Viktor's forehead. Viktor takes the opportunity to touch Katsuki's forehead. Katsuki flushes pink.  
“You look feverish too,” comments Viktor. “How's it going with Yakov?”  
“He's gruff, irascible, but brilliant. He's not happy with me, I probably shouldn't have come here,” confesses Katsuki.  
“He's enjoying teaching you. You're talented, hard-working, and do what you're told. On the other hand, I have made his life difficult.”  
Katsuki watches him, with a puzzled look on his face.  
“Just ask me. I usually tell you the truth,” says Viktor.  
“The day Feltsman-san called, you said some off putting things to me the phone. When I arrived in St. Petersburg, you ignored my presence. Now suddenly, you're acting… interested again,” notes Katsuki.  
“I wanted you to come here to dance, not for me,” repeats Viktor.  
“Why? You want me to want you but, not move here for you... Either you're confused about your feelings, or …”  
“Shush,” murmurs Viktor, pulling Katsuki into his arms.   
“You said no seduction in your apartment,” argues Katsuki.  
“I'd like to amend that rule, this couch is a contact zone. Sit here at your own risk,” declares Viktor.  
“I'm concerned you'll keep changing the rules satisfy your desires.”  
“Fine. If this isn't what you want… you may leave,” replies Viktor, opening his arms. Katsuki lies there. Viktor feels their legs entangled, their pelvises touching, Katsuki's cheek on his chest. He really hopes the other man stays.  
“Well?” murmurs Viktor.  
“Be quiet, I want to nap,” replies Katsuki, relaxing into his arms.

Yuri regrets how quickly Nikiforov recovers from his stomach bug, and the couch becomes the place he looks forward to every night. After eating, they curl up on the sofa, and watch the news or an old movie. It's the only place he can just lean into Nikiforov's body, and give into the delicious sensation of having him close.  
“Yuri, let yourself go. For one moment… do what you want …” coaxes Nikiforov.  
“May I touch… your fingers?” asks Yuri, slowly placing his hand on Viktor's. Then he feels Viktor's hand caressing the top of his hand, exploring the bumps of his knuckles, tracing the length of his fingers. They sit on the couch pretending to watch some show. Yuri feels like his heart is going to burst from just holding hands.  
“You are domesticating me. I was supposed to be taming you,” confesses Nikiforov.  
“What are you talking about?” asks Yuri.  
“Haven't you noticed? I come home, eat dinner with you, and sit all lovey-dovey on the couch with you every night. My reputation as a playboy is in terrible danger.”  
“What did you mean by taming me? I'm not a wild animal,” protests Yuri.  
“You were. You were so shy you barely talked to anyone. I spent two weeks with you in Hasetsu before you talked to me normally,” remembers Nikiforov.

Viktor and Katsuki spend more and more of their evenings on the couch, sometimes curled up next to one another, other times facing each other with their legs on top of each other.  
“Nikiforov, you need a bigger couch, there's barely enough room for both of us.”  
“And the problem is?” questions Viktor innocently. Katsuki jabs the other man's chest with his foot in response, narrowly missing his crotch.   
“Ow! Careful, I have plans for that part of my anatomy later,” whines Viktor.  
“So… what's it like to have sex with a man?” tentatively asks Katsuki. Viktor shakes his head, and replies,  
“Oh no, you're not turning me into your harmless friend and confidant. You have Phichit for that.”  
“Why not? We could be friends, and you don't have many friends.”  
Viktor reflects on it, but he wants Katsuki as his lover. Should he say so?  
“I have other plans for you,” finally answers Viktor. Katsuki appears to considers his next move in this mental chess game.  
“Answer my question about sex, and I'll answer whatever question you want,” offers Katsuki.  
“What caused the panic attacks?” Viktor immediately puts forward. Viktor watches Katsuki shift in discomfort.  
“I was often bullied at school, and I was terribly shy. I was always nervous at performances. But when I was 11 years old, I was traveling in Tokyo for a competition. I went to a local convenience store, to buy a pork bun. An old man pulled me into a alleyway. He made me face the wall, and he was shaking and panting. Then he disappeared.”  
Viktor takes Katsuki's hand.  
“Did he touch you?”  
“He grabbed my arm to drag me, that's all. He didn't rape me, if that's what you're thinking. I didn't know there was anything sexual going on until many years later. I didn't see him… touch himself. But… I became anxious and afraid of people in general,” explains Katsuki. Viktor stands up, feeling a surge of adrenaline from anger.   
“Damn! I would like to exact some kind of revenge, but it's not likely that I'll find that old pervert now,” growls Viktor, pacing next to the couch. Viktor turns towards Katsuki, noticing the other man's hands are shaking. But Katsuki adds,  
“I'm surprised you're acting protective. Look at how well I'm doing: I've never told anyone about that before, and I'm not hyperventilating.”

Nikiforov sits back down on the couch, and motions for Yuri to sit in his lap. Yuri hesitates, then sits down, feeling Nikiforov's arms wrapped around him. Yuri waits for the shaking to subside.  
“Now, tell me about sex,” Yuri reminds him.  
“I don't want to, the mechanics are not sexy. It's better to be shown, when you're overrun with pleasurable feelings,” argues Nikiforov.  
“A deal is a deal,” insists Yuri.  
“What exactly do you want to know?” asks Nikiforov, obviously stalling.  
“What men do when they're… together.”  
“They have oral sex, intercrural sex, anal sex, manual stimulation etc. Oh my, it's terribly late, we should go to sleep,” says Nikiforov, trying to get up from under Yuri. Yuri holds onto his arms, and presses him back down onto the couch.  
“Why are you avoiding this question? You don't seem shy or prudish…” quizzes Yuri, suspiciously.  
“Yuri, you've just shared a very traumatic memory. Take time to process that. I promise to give you a full sex education another night.”  
“All right – but it seems you're the one who's upset and needs more time, not me,” grumbles Yuri.

The next morning, Yuri is stretching in class when he notices a new email from Nikiforov.

To: Yuri Katsuki  
From: Viktor Nikiforov   
Oral sex, intercrural sex, anal sex, manual stimulation a detailed explanation…  
Oral sex is pleasuring the penis with the mouth, lips and tongue. Intercrural sex involves placing the penis in between the legs of the other person, usually with lubrication.…

Yuri stops reading and feels his cheeks burning. Nikiforov comes up next to him, saying loudly,  
“I finally answered your question about…” Yuri quickly shushes him.


	10. Chapter 10: I Dance Therefore I Am

Yuri comes into the group changing room, puts on his white poofy pants, then searches for his makeup kit. Christophe is applying his own nearby.  
“I saw somebody pick it up – I think they meant to borrow it,” Christophe pipes up, solicitously. The tall Swiss makes even the most innocuous statements sound ominous. Yuri leaves, and knocks on Nikiforov's dressing room.  
“My makeup has disappeared, could I…” begins Yuri. Viktor sits Yuri down, quickly applies foundation and dramatic eyeliner. Then he begins to do Yuri's hair.  
“That's not necessary…” Yuri protests.  
“I disagree!” Viktor responds unequivocally. There is something soothing yet erotic about fingers stroking his hair and scalp. Yuri's whole body is tingling, and he closes his eyes. Viktor tries a few different looks, then decides to slick it back. He applies hairspray, and smiles, pleased with the results.  
“You look beautiful,” announces Viktor. Yuri looks at himself in the mirror, but it's just a blur. He left his glasses at his dressing table. He needs to leave and warm-up, but tarries a little bit, enjoying the languorous feeling. Viktor interrupts the moment by cautioning,  
“Stop imagining us kissing. I would, but it would smudge our makeup.”  
Yuri gets up, and takes the opportunity to straighten Nikiforov's pirate costume.  
“I wasn't thinking about kissing, you must be projecting your thoughts on to me…” replies Yuri impishly, dashing out before the other man retaliates.

Viktor stops himself from grabbing Yuri, and pulling him back.  
“You were thinking about kissing… and I'm done waiting for you to make a move,” Viktor warns the empty room.

It's Sunday night, Yuri and Viktor have been talking for hours. Since they have the day off Monday, neither of them feels obligated to get a full night's rest.  
“Why do you have so few friends?” asks Yuri.  
“Most people want the extravagant dancer with a brilliant persona. While it's fun to play the room, no one wants the real me,” replies Viktor.  
“So, you hardly go out. Are you not very social?”  
“I have a love-hate relationship with people. I love their admiration, but I usually hate their company. Anyway, hell is other people, no?” says Viktor, quoting Sartre.  
“Do you have a moral basis? How do you decide what is appropriate in terms of your actions?” questions Yuri, hoping to understand the other man's behavior.  
“My my, you get philosophical when you're tired. I mainly follow society's rules in order to stay out of prison. Life is pointless, therefore I focus on my own pleasure and gratification,” replies Viktor.  
“There's no meaning to life? Are you a existential nihilist?” continues Yuri.  
“What meaning do you see?”  
“Human beings create meaning. They can create art, help others, heal,… I wish I was doing more to help the world,” replies Yuri with a sigh.  
“You sound like an Epicurean, valuing knowledge, friendship, and a virtuous life. What's wrong with sex?” demands Viktor.  
“Nothing. I just haven't been ready. And yet… my gut says you do have a strict set of morality. It's like you're playing the role of a dissolute hedonist, maybe to protect your own heart?” theorizes Yuri. Viktor seems annoyed by this analysis, and retaliates,  
“Your principles are arbitrary, and based on fear. They make you feel like you're a better person, but you're using them to not truly engage in life.”  
“My principles have been created, but they're not arbitrary. I try to do the greatest good, life is not pointless because I choose it not to be. And just because I don't have sex with you, doesn't mean I'm not engaging in life,” argues Yuri.  
“I disagree, you're engaging in philosophical discourse instead of intercourse. Not that I mind, I will willingly talk into an epistemological black hole, if you'd like.”  
“You always bring everything back to sex. Is that all you think about?” complains Yuri.  
“No. I think about not touching you, not kissing you, not running my tongue along your…” replies Viktor. Yuri covers Viktor's mouth with his hand, feeling his body heat up from Viktor's words.  
“Too much flirting, I'm going to bed,” interjects Yuri, realizing his hand can feel Viktor's lips. Panicked, he jumps up from the couch, and heads toward his bedroom.  
“It's not supposed to be flirting, it's supposed to be foreplay!” yells Viktor to Yuri's retreating back.

Yuri spends his Monday morning checking his emails.

From: Phichit Chulanont  
To: Katsuki Yuri

Dear Yuri,  
I did it!!! I auditioned for the role of Lun Tha in a Broadway staging of The King and I, and I got it! I knew those voice lessons would be good for something other than singing karaoke…

Dear Phichit,  
Congratulations! You have so much stage presence, I'm sure you will be wonderful. On a more embarrassing note, do you think constant sexual frustration is bad for your health? I must be the oldest virgin alive…

Yuri clicks on the social media pages for his friends and family. Phichit is wearing a Burmese costume, rehearsing for his new role. Minako sensei is teaching a class to the triplets, who appear to be more interested in taking selfies than in dancing. Yuri remembers the photograph of Nureyev in Nikiforov's bedroom, and searches the Internet for more information. According to one site, Nureyev was either bisexual or gay. He had a relationship with the famous Danish dancer Erik Bruhn. Yuri searches for more information on Bruhn. There's a black-and-white photograph of the very handsome chiseled face, that strikes a nerve. Yuri feels a welling of deep affection. How odd. Yuri checks the dates of his life: 1928-1986. Bruhn died before Yuri was even born. Yuri feels a deep sense of sadness, tears flowing from his eyes. Confused, he turns off the computer. He goes and sits on the couch, hugging a cushion.  
“Do you believe in love?” questions Yuri, as Viktor makes coffee.  
“Attraction, infatuation, or the altruistic regard for somebody else?” responds Viktor.  
“The latter, a deep lasting regard for someone…” specifies Yuri.  
“Pheromones masking as something deeper. What's this about?” asks Viktor, puzzled. Yuri shakes his head, not knowing how to articulate his emotions.  
“Is it possible to love someone you've never met?” asks Yuri.  
“Oh, are you having an Internet affair? Of course one can have feelings, but when you meet them in person, you'll discover you had feelings about a mirage,” replies Viktor cynically.

Viktor takes a break up by the barre, reflecting on the situation with Yuri. There's a few people who he's taken his time with, but never this long. The sexual anticipation has been going for so long, his body is in a constant state of frustration. Masturbating at night is not satisfying. He feels sure Yuri is ready for the next step, kissing. But Viktor worries that if he makes a move at the apartment, he won't be able to stop himself from going all the way. Viktor suspects Yuri has never been kissed, so where should they do it? At a park? A posh restaurant?  
“Vitya! Stop daydreaming, and fix that free leg,” shouts Yakov.

Viktor invites Yuri to the Mariinsky II for the ballet Carmen. Viktor has insisted Yuri wear the tuxedo from Venice, and the effect is… breathtaking. Unfortunately, the conservative crowd of the ballet is the wrong place to kiss, let alone kiss a man.  
“This cost 290 million euros. Much more drab than Venice,” dishes Viktor.  
“You said this might improve my short program. Because of the Spanish influence?” quizzes Yuri.  
“Yuri, you're afraid to be sexy. Imitating a ballet dancer might be less intimidating. But don't just look at the male performances, you can imitate the women as well. The perfect ballet dancer integrates the masculine and the feminine into his dancing,” lectures Viktor, lapsing into teacher mode.

The next evening, Yuri walks along a new area of town, searching for an Asian food store. He replays Carmen in his mind. It wasn't very sexy, especially compared to the way Nikiforov could dance his Eros routine. Everyone would love to see that. Yuri just doesn't know how to use his body that way. He wanders down various streets, and sees a neon sign advertising free lessons. He peers through the dingy glass, then backs away, surprised. On impulse, he walks into the studio, and signs up for some lessons.

Over the next few weeks, Viktor notices a new sensuality to Yuri's performance of Eros. Yakov is pleased by the improvement, but Viktor observes with discontent. Why has Yuri changed? Mila voices what Viktor is fearing,  
“Oh my! Things must be going well with Katsuki's boyfriend… Maybe our Japanese friend is not a virgin anymore!”

Viktor pulls Vasily into his private dressing room.  
“Have you had sex with Katsuki?” demands Viktor, without preamble.  
“That's not any of your business,” replies Vasily, astonished at the question.  
“You had better not rush him in any way. He has… issues, and needs to be treated with utmost care. If I hear of any harm or ...discomfort from him, I will make your life a living hell,” threatens Viktor. Vasily gets upset, and replies,  
“The devil protecting his pawn? Yuri need not fear me, the same can't be said about you!”

Yulia motions to Yuri after class.  
“You have much improved, thank you so much!” she says earnestly, grabbing both of his hands.  
“Yulia, the problem was never with you. I've never had certain experiences… anyway, I found myself the right teacher,” explains Yuri, pulling his hands away.  
“At a pole dancing studio?” she asks. Yuri blanches. Yulia continues, waving her hands,  
“Please do not worry! I do not talk to others. I happen to walk by and see. I ask for more favors. I am practicing part of Medora, but I dare not ask anyone to do Conrad with me.”  
“If we can find the time, I'm willing,” acquiesces Yuri, excited by the idea of practicing the starring roles.

Yuri is having dinner with Vasily at Gastronome, a hip rooftop restaurant. The tables are covered in jeans tablecloths, and the menu is international fusion. A small commotion happens when Nikiforov enters with Kimin Kim, from Korea. Both of them are temporarily mobbed by fans, till the waiters help to dissipate the admirers. Yuri observes Kim who is tall, handsome and incredibly successful. One of the first non-Russian to be hired into the Mariinsky Ballet as a principal dancer. There is no way Yuri can compete with someone like that. Why does he feel so so attracted to Viktor? Is it because he's never kissed a guy? He should try to kiss Vasily, give the nice boy a chance. It would be nice if his mind, heart and body were all in agreement.  
“Would you like to talk to Kimin Kim?” asks Vasily, interrupting Yuri's train of thought.  
“No, I'm sorry I'm being rude. I am envious of his height, I'm only 172cm, while he is 183cm.”  
“He is bowlegged, and has terrible feet. I like you better,” responds Vasily loyally. Yuri ignores the compliment.  
“What were we talking about?” questions Yuri, trying to focus on his cute companion.  
“I was boring you with my hopes of getting more solo parts. Unfortunately, often an injury of another dancer is how to get them. I only talk about ballet – should we talk about something else?”  
“Sure. I like to read philosophical works, though I often don't understand them. Have you read Jean–Paul Sartre?”  
Vasily shakes his head. “I don't read much, and I'm guessing it's not about ballet…” ruefully admits Vasily.

Back at the apartment, Yuri sighs at his predicament. He felt terribly jealous watching Viktor with Kimin Kim, it was easier to keep his feelings in check when the other men were theoretical. And Vasily is kind and gorgeous… but not very intellectual. Yuri grabs a box of crackers, and stress eats it on the couch with Makkachin. Viktor comes in about an hour later. While Viktor takes his coat off, Yuri tries to hide the box, while brushing off the crumbs from the couch. Makkachin helps by licking all the tidbits she can find.  
“I've caught you in the act, what punishment shall I enact?” remarks Viktor.  
“I caught you too. You're not supposed to be dating anyone from the Mariinsky,” counters Yuri, furtively putting the empty box in the trash.  
“Kim was asking for professional advice, he's dating Renata. Why are you acting jealous when you were on a date?”  
“Viktor, am I too… nerdy? I shouldn't expect people to be interested in dead philosophers, or gender roles in the history of ballet…” replies Yuri, not answering the question.  
“Oh dear, what did you discuss with Vasily?” asks Viktor, amused.  
“I told him in the ballet Othello, there are homoerotic undertones to his relationship with Iago… And I tried to to show him that Sartre is kind of humorous, the way he describes slime…” recounts Yuri.  
“It's a bit misogynistic, women's skin is the slimiest of all…” adds Viktor.  
“But it's so real! I mean I've never… been completely intimate, but even self pleasure is slimy! We eat and we shit, and eventually we rot and die… Isn't that why we love beauty so much? Because we know will end up somewhere very ugly and disgusting…” expounds Yuri. Viktor laughs, then advises,   
“Hopefully I will die, then rot. You expect too much from a romantic partner. You want friendship, great sex, great conversation, and a communion of souls. It's not realistic. Either you find different people in your life to fulfill different needs, or you do without. Good night,Yuri!”


	11. Chapter 11: We Kiss in a Shadow

A few nights later, while rehearsing Swan Lake in the old Mariinsky theater, an electrical storm rages outside. The lights flicker on and off. Everyone stops dancing, and Yuri moves to a corner, Viktor beside him. The lights go out, and there are some cries of dismay. Yuri feels a hand stroke the side of his face, then a finger slowly traces the outline of his lips. He knows it's Viktor. There's a tingling on the back of his neck, and a familiar scent of expensive cologne. Yuri knows he should pull away, while his body wants Viktor to hurry up. Torn, he stands there frozen, with clenched hands and pursed lips. Finally he feels warm lips cover his own, and gently explore. Then the mouth pulls away, and whispers in his ear,  
“Open your mouth.”  
Yuri forces his jaw to relax, and takes a deep breath through his nose. Viktor takes the opportunity to kiss him again, running his tongue inside Yuri's mouth. Yuri can't believe he's actually doing this. It's hot and messy and… electrifying. He desperately wants… more. He pushes his body forward to press against Viktor's, and he hears a satisfied chuckle.  
“I'm glad this old building needs new wiring,” whispers Viktor.

It's extremely late when they get home, and Viktor wonders whether to kiss again. But back at the apartment, Yuri avoids Viktor, quickly disappearing into his own bedroom. The next few nights are so busy with performances, they both go straight to bed right after Giselle. However, Monday their sacred day off, Viktor sits on the couch waiting, realizing Yuri is still avoiding him. Viktor gets up, and knocks on Yuri's door.  
“Yes?” says Yuri through the door. Viktor opens the door, taking a deep breath to calm his anger.  
“If you no longer want me to kiss you, you could say something, instead of your passive aggressive avoidance,” more angrily than he intended. Yuri brushes by him, heads straight to the door, and puts on his coat. Yuri grabs Viktor's coat, motioning for him to put it on. Viktor shrugs, not comprehending, but follows. Yuri talks while they walk.  
“I've been kissed before, but only by women. And you've been so considerate, you have no idea how that melts me inside…” Yuri glances over at Viktor's expression, “never mind you knew exactly what you were doing. Anyway the point is… no kissing in the apartment,” decides Yuri, hoping he sounds firm. Viktor stops him, so he can read Yuri's face.  
“I'm interpreting your words as… you liked my kissing so much you're afraid you'll give in to me completely, which goes back to our general problem. All right. It's freezing. May we go back to the apartment?” responds Viktor. They quickly walk back, and Yuri fills the kettle to boil water.  
“What's our general problem according to you?” questions Yuri.  
“I originally thought you weren't ready for sex. But your physical reactions tell me otherwise. Our general problem is you don't want to want me. I am unworthy of you.”  
Yuri ponders the analysis, and makes them both cups of tea. Green tea for himself, and white tea, Viktor's favorite. Is Viktor not good enough for him? Or is Yuri really worried that he's not good enough for Viktor…

Viktor decides Yuri did not ban intimacy outside of the apartment, but it's too cold outside to enjoy a public park. Viktor finds ways to pull Yuri into changing rooms and broom closets for a quick make out sessions. This one is Viktor's least favorite, having the smell of chemical disinfectants around them. But Yuri is eager, is tugging at his sweatshirt, and opening his mouth. Viktor luxuriates in the taste, and finally being able to kiss him, touch his skin, run his hands all over Yuri's body, exploring. Viktor presses him against the wall and lets his hands slowly run down Yuri's side. Yuri suddenly squeaks “Oh!” Viktor searches with his hands behind Yuri's back, and feels a wooden pole near Yuri's backside. Viktor pushes it down a little bit till it rides between Yuri's legs.  
“Uh, … too much, I won't be able to control myself,” says Yuri about an octave higher than he usually does.  
“I want you to come, let go Yuri...lose control in my arms...” murmurs Viktor.

Yuri sneaks out of the broom closet, trying to hide the wet spot in his pants, his face scarlet. Viktor leads into the changing room, and hands him a pair of his tiny black briefs.  
“These are a spare pair, let me know how they fit,” says Viktor, a little too helpfully.  
“Are we done dancing for today?” asks a befuddled Yuri, wondering why making out leads to complete mental confusion.  
“We have to return for Yakov's weekly speech.”  
Yuri goes into a bathroom stall, and quickly changes. But the feel of tiny tight black underwear, and who they belong to, makes it hard to focus on what Mister Feltsman is saying. Yuri keeps fidgeting with his waistband.  
“Katsuki! Is something wrong with your pants? I expect everyone here to behave professionally!” shouts Yakov, before making general announcements. Yuri closes his eyes in desperate embarrassment. He preferred it when he was invisible in the company.

Once back at the apartment, Yuri quickly changes into his pajamas. Wanting to forget about the day, he reads his emails.

To: Katsuki Yuri  
From: Natalie Leroy

My dear Yuri,  
since you were so kind to my dear son JJ during that ballet competition, I feel a measure of responsibility towards you. I have heard you are now training alongside Viktor Nikiforov. He has a terrible reputation which I insist you take seriously. It is not just a measure of sleeping around, he has the ability to make men fall in love with him. It is a game for him, he has destroyed relationships, as well as dance careers. One man left his wife and kids to be with him, only to be abandoned like the others. That man committed suicide.  
Sincerely, Natalie Leroy

Yuri feels a sense of shock. Truth is, no matter what he learns about Nikiforov's true nature, he is drawn towards him, sensing something good at his core. Obviously, his own feelings can't be trusted. Yuri needs to focus on someone nice. Yuri prints out a photo of Vasily, and pins it to the wall.

With autumn, the weather is getting colder, the leaves are turning red and yellow, and falling to the ground. Yakov is rehearsing a scene from Giselle.  
“Katsuki, as Hilarion, you suspect Viktor, I mean Albrecht, of not being a simple peasant. Mila, you believe in Albrecht completely with all your heart.”  
They begin to perform the scene, dancing and a few moments of pantomime. Hilarion discovers Albrecht has a sword, a mark of nobility. Then Giselle, danced by Mila, discovers that Albrecht is betrothed to a noblewoman. She dances in despair, then dies of heart failure. Yakov pauses the rehearsal to talk to the lighting technician. Viktor comes near Katsuki, who says,  
“Always breaking hearts, Viktor. Do you also have any deaths on your conscience?” Katsuki immediately leaves the area. Mila watches the interaction.  
“That was harsh. Why is our sweet Katsuki upset?” she wonders.  
“I'm not sure,” replies Viktor, surprised at the sudden attack.

Viktor remains at a distance for the rest of the day, sensing Yuri's outrage. But he can't recall an action or words that triggered it. Then he remembers that last time, there was an email from Christophe. Viktor waits till Yuri is in the shower, then checks Yuri's laptop. He tries several passwords: ballet, Nikiforov, Hasetsu… What was the name of his dog? Vicchan. That's it! Viktor checks Yuri's emails, and comes across the one from JJ's mother. Then Viktor sees the newest photo on the wall: Vasily Machenko. Viktor feels a burning in his gut. Livid, he quickly shuts down the computer, and leaves the room.

The next day, Christophe stops Viktor in the hallway.  
“I have news. Sophie Gercourt-Leroy and JJ are in St. Petersburg. My poor ex-lover Isabella is hopelessly in love with JJ, I was on the phone pleading with her not to despair. Is there hope for the young couple?”  
“You're in luck. I'm the marriage destroyer after all…” coldly replies Viktor. Christophe looks incredibly pleased. 

After his evening performance, Viktor spots JJ bringing flowers to his dressing room. He hopes the man is not as stupid as he looks.  
“Thank you, I was wondering if…” begins Viktor. But JJ interrupts,  
“Want to go to my hotel room and see my medals? I travel with my whole collection.”  
Viktor nods affirmatively, at least this should be quick. They go up to the penthouse suite, and JJ opens a suitcase with a bunch of medals in it. Viktor glances at the collection with a bored look, then wonders how to seduce this straight man. But before he knows it, JJ has stripped down to his underpants, and is showing off some tattoos on his lower back.   
“So how is married life with Sophie?” asks Viktor, a little confused.  
“Oh, you know,” replies JJ, as he hops on the bed.  
“Is there a problem with your sex life?” continues Viktor, still not getting a gay vibe from the other man.  
“Nope! I've watched a few porn videos, just have to find the right hole.”   
Viktor feels sorry for Sophie in that moment.   
“JJ, why am I here?”  
“The problem is… I've already asked Sophie for a divorce. She refuses. But maybe if she saw me with another man…” explains JJ.   
“Ah. In that case, we can both get naked and stage a photo…” proposes Viktor. JJ shakes his head.   
“I can't lie, Sophie will know it was faked. I need to… really do it,” insists JJ. Viktor shrugs, then acquiesces. JJ gets on his hands and knees, and quickly pulls down his underpants. This has to be Viktor's oddest conquest. Viktor grabs some lube, and prepares to insert a finger, feeling like a proctologist.  
“Try to relax. There is a spot here that feels good,” explains Viktor. JJ seems unimpressed, and weirdly casual about another man investigating his butt. Then his face changes.  
“Ouch! Ah… that's different…” mutters JJ,  
Viktor spends some time stimulating the arousal spot, while glancing at his wristwatch. JJ is getting more and more aroused, and Viktor admires JJ's shapely ass. When he's not talking, JJ is very good-looking. Viktor gets out his phone, removes his clothes, and puts a condom on. He slowly penetrates JJ, deftly massaging the other man's penis to distract from the discomfort. Viktor pauses for a moment, takes a few photos, then slowly enjoys the ass fuck.

“A little present for you,” declares Viktor, sending Christophe a photo by text. Christophe looks at it appreciatively.  
“Thank you, I'm sorry… I didn't get you anything,” replies Christophe. “What changed your mind?”  
“JJ's mother is trying to get in between Katsuki and I,” Viktor curtly replies.  
“And you've never like threesomes… You seem rather protective of Katsuki. Are you developing feelings for him?” asks Christophe, looking playfully horrified.  
“I like his freshness and innocence. I don't like anyone getting in the way.”  
Christophe looks at him calculatedly, and posts the photo online with the caption The King of Gay.

To: Isabella Yang  
From: Christophe Giacometti  
My dear Isabella,  
you must find it difficult wanting to be with JJ, the man you love. I have orchestrated what I can to free him from his grasping difficult wife.   
With sincere affection,  
Christophe

Mila, Viktor and Yuri and the other dancers are rehearsing Giselle. Feltsman stomps on stage and yells,  
“Viktor, in my office now!”  
Everybody looks at each other, wondering. Yakov leads him to his office, then shows Viktor the photos of him having sex with JJ.  
“This was a nice surprise to deal with this morning! Half the board wants to fire you, the other half is too greedy to do it. Some guys defended you because you were putting it in, instead of taking it! Idiots. Vitya, I don't care if you're gay, but I shouldn't have to be discussing your ass in board meetings. I'm warning you, any more public sex crap and you're fired.”

Katsuki has also seen the photos of Viktor with JJ. Upset, he avoids Viktor even more, and chats with Mila, now wearing the white floaty dress of a spirit maiden.  
“I'm about ready to join the Wilis as a vengeful maiden,” fumes Yuri.  
“The Wilis are boring. Can you imagine this ballet with the Furies? They had the heads of dogs, the wings of a bat, and the hair of snakes,” Mila says looking rather vengeful herself.  
“As long as they tear Viktor to pieces, I don't care what they look like. Oh, time for me to dance to my death. Why does my character, the innocent Hilarion, die a terrible death? Meanwhile, Viktor will be forgiven by the beautiful Giselle.”  
“Now now, Katsuki. I'll be forgiving Albrecht, not Viktor,” corrects Mila.

During one of the breaks, dancers murmur to each other, and quickly disappear. Mila grabs Yuri's arm, and drags him across the street to the Mariinsky II.  
“Why are we at the other stage?” questions Yuri.  
“Anya dumped Gorgi, and now he's performing Carabosse, the evil fairy. Supposedly, it's a lot more intense than usual.”

Gorgi is wearing a dark Elizabethan dress, and moves like a tortured beast as he jumps and twirls to the music. He has lost all precision to his dancing, and is making up his own choreography. Yakov seems completely discouraged. Gorgi finishes his variation and flails to the left wing, only to stumble and fall. There's a scream, as Gorgi tries to stand on his right leg, only to collapse back on the floor.

Viktor sees the entire scene from the back, he notices Christophe is the only one not surprised by the accident. As others call for medical help, he edges next to Christophe.  
“I thought you would send the photo to Sophie Gercourt, not post it online,” comments Viktor coolly. Christophe seems amused.  
“Sophie wouldn't care unless it went public,” replies Christophe.  
“I see. Enjoy dancing Carabosse, I'm sure you will portray the evil fairy well,” sallies Viktor.

An ambulance shows up. Gorgi is taken away on a stretcher.  
“Yakov, what exactly happened?” questions Viktor.  
“The worst, Vitya. A piece of scenery was left in the wings exactly where Gorgi exited stage left. He won't be able to perform,” replies Yakov.  
“This is the second time someone's been hurt by a piece of scenery. Usually the technical crew is very careful about such things. This feels like outright sabotage,” remarks Viktor. “Yakov, I have no evidence, but be careful of Christophe.”

Viktor knocks on the soloist dressing room door. Vasily opens the door a little bit.  
“He doesn't want to see you. Please leave,” Vasily informs him protectively.  
“I'm going to tell him the truth. Stay,” Viktor orders Vasily. Viktor walks in and sees Katsuki sitting on a chair hugging his knees with very red eyes. The look in Yuri's eyes, hurt, disappointment, and withdrawal. All the work Viktor had put into establishing trust has been wiped away.  
“I'm not a good person. I've manipulated you, and I spied on your personal emails. However, I've never forced anyone to have sex with me or push them to suicide. I'm an asshole, but not a monster.” Viktor heads to the door, opens it, then turns toward Katsuki.  
“I've been patient, are you ever going to have sex with me?” questions Viktor airily, as if asking about the weather. There's a long silence. Eventually, Katsuki clears his throat and replies,  
“No. If that's all you want, I'll stop bothering you.”  
“Why are you rejecting me?” Viktor can't help but ask.  
“I'm inexperienced, but not a fool. For you, I'm just another prize to be won. I'm here if you would like to be friends. And Nikiforov about the online photos…poshlost.”  
“Yes. And Katsuki, change your password.”

Yuri feels disappointed, yet puzzled. The announcement was… theatrical, rehearsed. Nikiforov was behaving different than usual. But maybe the earlier behavior was the act. Vasily is incensed, and rages,  
“What a bastard! He deserves to be punished.”  
Yuri shakes his head.  
“Actually, he's being mean to be nice, to make me hate him,” corrects Yuri, wiping his eyes. Vasily looks around helplessly, then leaves to get a bottle of water. Yuri's phone rings.  
“I hate to tell you… but there are photos of chalky Nikiforov with a married man that are graphically sexual going viral online…” begins Phichit.  
“I know. But Viktor never claimed to be exclusive…”  
“Still, I don't like cheaters,” growls Phichit.  
“Did you notice? JJ is looking at the camera intently, like he knows it's there...” adds Yuri, knowing he sounds stupid in defending Viktor.


	12. Chapter 12: Greek Love in Moscow

Viktor, Katsuki, Plisetsky and Yulia are sent to Moscow for a special performance of Journey to Love in honor of the retirement of one of the Lilia's fellow ballerina. Upon arriving at the small hotel, Viktor argues with the hotel staff. Viktor paces next to the window of his hotel room. What the hell is he doing? Katsuki hates him, he needs to let this relationship go. There's a knock on his door.  
“Hi. The hotel can't find my reservation and everyone else is already asleep. Can I sleep on your couch?” Yuri requests without making eye contact.  
“Of course,” replies Viktor, wondering why Yuri isn't trying to stay with Plisetsky.  
“Let me know if I'm in your way and, I'll get out of your way, and anyway… I know you might invite company,” rambles Katsuki, placing his bags next the couch.  
“You're my only company this evening. I'm going to bed. Good night,” says Viktor, escaping to his bedroom.

Viktor comes out a few minutes later with a sheet and a blanket, then quickly disappears. Yuri takes them, and arranges them on the couch. In the bathroom, he brushes his teeth and puts on a ragged pair of pajamas. He lies down, and tries to sleep. He tosses and turns, nervous and uncomfortable. Usually, he masturbates, then goes to sleep. But with Nikiforov in the room nearby… Yuri listens attentively, but the room is very quiet. So holding his breath, he reaches down into his pants, and slowly pumps himself. Quickly his body overheats, as does his imagination. Images of Viktor, removing his clothes, and… Sweating profusely, Yuri removes the blanket, and lowers his pants. The coolness is a welcome relief, but being exposed in the living room makes him more nervous. He should stop. No, he should continue, but finish quickly. Or maybe he should lock himself in the bathroom? That would be better for privacy, but the bathroom wall adjoins the bedroom. Meanwhile, his penis is throbbing.  
“Is this an invitation or am I intruding on a private moment?” hears Yuri falling off the couch. He stands up, grabs a throw pillow, and places it over his crotch. Viktor is wearing a silver silk pajama ensemble, which makes him look like a handsome ghost.  
“Damn! As usual, you don't want me involved. At least I'll give you a taste of what you'll be missing…” continues Viktor. He drops to his knees, removes the cushion, and Yuri feels a hot mouth sucking, licking and flicking on his erection. His brain short-circuits. The feeling is new, intense, better than he could possibly have imagined. He comes quickly, having already prepared himself. Viktor stands up, and warns,  
“Sweet dreams, Yuri. And don't come in or near my bedroom, unless the building is on fire. My self-restraint is about to crack.”  
Yuri lies back down on the couch in shock, mentally replaying the experience till he's more feverish and frustrated than ever.

Viktor falls on his bed, and bangs his head several times into his pillow. That was exactly what he wasn't supposed to do. Exasperated, he folds a pillow in half, thrusts into it and tortures himself imagining Yuri's behind.

At the theater, Viktor keeps his distance from Yuri, and mentally goes over his dance, gesturing the basics of the first dance as always. Yuri looks around, distracted. Viktor goes on stage first, and performs adequately. Yuri paces restlessly, unable to focus. Viktor apologizes,  
“What's wrong? Is this my fault? I'm sorry I went too far last night...”  
“I'll be fine. I need to focus on something besides sex,” admits Yuri candidly.  
“Well, be careful. It's like an ice skating rink out there. Use lots of rosin,” advises Viktor. Yuri goes out and takes his beginning pose. As he steps off to do his first leap, he realizes the floor is incredibly slippery. Instead of dancing full out, Yuri does smaller steps, trying to avoid a twisted ankle or even a broken bone. Once finished, he tells Viktor,  
“It's a miracle none of us got hurt.”

Viktor hunts down one of the stage technicians.  
“Why is the floor so slippery? It's almost as if it's been polished…” rants Viktor.  
“It has been. The assistant manager from the Mariinsky insisted on it,” explains the stage tech.  
“Who did that?” cries Viktor, appalled.  
“Vyacheslav Molotov, I think the name was…” recalls the stage tech. Viktor feels a wrench in his stomach. Molotov was an old Bolshevik for whom the Molotov cocktail was named. Someone from the Mariinsky is trying to hurt them. Did Christophe do this? He had always been ambitious and devious, but this was vicious.

St. Petersburg, Russia

Once back in St. Petersburg, Viktor and Yuri avoid each other as much as possible for two people who work and live together. But right now, Viktor is more concerned about Yuri's safety, than their relationship. Viktor decides to chat with Christophe, to find out more about his state of mind.  
“Hello Christophe, how is life at the Mariinsky?” questions Viktor nonchalantly.  
“Well, I failed in seducing Korsuntsev's wife, but lucky for me he is out with hip bursitis. I was successful with the other principal dancer…Vladimir Ivanchenko. His wife, Olga, is desperately in love with me, she will do anything for me. I'm hoping her husband will fall apart, and not be able to dance, when he hears of her affair. How is your Japanese virgin?” inquires Christophe.  
“Christophe, the bet is off.”  
“My poor Viktor, finally someone who can tell you no. And a gay man too! Are you terribly disappointed not to bed me?”  
“You misunderstand me. Whether or not Katsuki has sex with me, I will not be bedding you.”  
“Why not?” Christophe cackles. “You poor pathetic thing, you're in love! And with that shy, stuttering Japanese dancer. How disappointing, I thought you had better taste,” laments Christophe, then leaves.

Later that day, Viktor opens his dressing room door to find Christophe posing near the back wall wearing only a G-string.   
“I made myself clear on the subject,” Viktor says coldly.  
“This has nothing to do with the bet. I'm simply being kind to you. Katsuki's virginal routine has got you confused. You need a distraction,” explains Christophe, undulating his body. Viktor smiles in spite of himself,  
“I need a quick one night stand. If we get together, let's do it right.”  
Christophe shrugs his shoulders, and quickly pulls on some exercise pants.  
“If you really love him, you'll stay away from him. You're no good for anyone,” informs Christophe, shaking his head, and walking out. Viktor gazes at the ceiling, wondering if Christophe is correct.

That evening, Yuri finds an anonymous invitation to dinner in his athletic bag. He dresses well, certain he will be meeting Viktor. When he gets the restaurant, he sees Vasily at the dinner table.  
“Yuri! Thank you for the invitation!” exclaims Vasily happily, checking out the dinner menu.  
“You're …welcome,” Yuri sits down and looks around the restaurant. He receives a text from Nikiforov.  
Viktor Nikiforov: Keep dating someone who is nice, good luck!  
Yuri feels disappointed. Vasily chats about the Gorgi drama, but Yuri is in no mood to talk. As they part company, Vasily asks,  
“You barely talk, and you're sad with me. What is happening?” Vasily looks disappointed, mirroring Yuri's emotions. Yuri tries to fix the situation.  
“Vasily… do you think, should we ...would it be weird, or inappropriate, or maybe I'm not supposed to talk about it?”  
Confused, Vasily asks,   
“Talk about what?”  
“I was curious about… trying to kiss…” whispers Yuri, turning pink. Vasily smiles good-naturedly.  
“You have not dated much, true?”  
“I've only dated… two people, including you,” admits Yuri embarrassed. Vasily gets closer, and presses his lips on Yuri's. It's pleasant, but there's none of the liquid fire that makes Viktor's kisses so intoxicating. Yuri returns home, wondering what to do. Even more worrisome, Vasily seems more and more infatuated with him. If Yuri was several years younger, they would probably have been perfect for each other. But now, it's another pair of lips he keeps remembering.

Back at the apartment, Yuri spends the evening playing with Makkachin. She lies on her back holding a stuffed toy which Yuri finds adorable. Unable to find his phone,Yuri motions to Viktor's phone with the pink prince outfit on it.  
“Can I borrow your phone? I want to take a photograph of Makkachin.”  
Viktor nods, quickly punches his password, and hands over his cell phone. Yuri takes a whole bunch of photos, then quickly checks to make sure they're not blurry. As he slides his fingers over the picture compilation, he comes across dozens of photos of himself. The same photos from the social media site in Yuri's name. Yuri knew Viktor was responsible yet… it's still a shock. Feeling like he's prying, Yuri closes the photo icon. But there is still a photo of Yuri on the lock screen. The one of him sleeping on the couch…  
“You should've asked my permission before posting photos of me online,” declares Yuri, unsettled.  
“Mmm? I prefer to ask for forgiveness than permission. Having a strong online following will give you more bargaining power for your next contract,” instructs Viktor, serving dinner. Yuri picks up his plate, and pointedly goes to eat in his bedroom.

Viktor knocks on Yuri's door.  
“Fine. I will take down the web page,” offers Viktor. Yuri opens the door, and shakes his head, visibly annoyed.  
“The web page is great, you idiot! I object to how you treat me, be more considerate!”  
“I'm trying, that's why I set you up with Vasily…” Yuri pushes Viktor out of his room, then slams the door. Viktor stares at the door for a while, then grumbles,  
“I hate trying to be nice.”


	13. Chapter 13: Dark Swan

They are preparing for Swan Lake, running through the entire ballet, but Viktor doesn't show up. Yuri gets his phone, and attempts to call Viktor. Mila watches concerned.  
“When did he leave?” inquires Mila.  
“He just went to the apartment to give the dog a quick walk. He should've returned by now,” replies Yuri, glued to his phone. Exasperated, Mila tries to take the phone away.  
“No please, give it back! There's a new post…” protests Yuri. Mila hands it back, and checks her own phone.  
“There's a rumor Viktor is in the hospital, he's very sick…” reads Yuri in dismay. Yuri runs to the dressing rooms, and puts on his coat and shoes, leaving his jester costume on.  
“Where are you going?” yells Mila, following him.  
“I have to make sure he's all right. I'm going to check hospitals.”

Yuri visits every major hospital, and some small emergency rooms. No luck.  
“Either Viktor is not in these hospitals, or these posts are fake,” says Yuri to himself. Yuri finally gets a text from Viktor.  
Viktor Nikiforov: Makkachin sick from eating pork buns.  
“Pork buns? I need to check Makkachin's veterinarian.”  
Yuri walks dozens of blocks, then straight through the office, rushing to the examination rooms.  
“Makkachin, is she here? A big brown poodle?” The technician motions Yuri to the back. They go down a long corridor with lots of little doors. Finally she opens one door. Inside Makkachin is laying on a table barely moving, and Viktor is sitting keeled over in the corner. Viktor glances up,  
“Yuri?… It's not looking good,” says Viktor with a desperate tone. Yuri walks over, and hugs Viktor. He sighs in relief seeing Viktor is all right. They spend the night in the cramped little room, waiting.   
“Why did you buy pork buns? You always find them too sweet…” questions Yuri. Viktor frowns.  
“I didn't. I received a package of them at the apartment, your name was on the note,” explains Viktor.  
“I didn't send them. Do we know what's in them?” replies Yuri, worried.  
“Not yet, but I did send some buns out to be tested.”  
Early in the morning, the veterinarian checks Makkachin's vitals.  
“Mister Nikiforov, the latest lab results show extensive damage to the liver, she might survive a few more days or a few more weeks, but she will not recover. I'm sorry.”  
Viktor makes a quick decision. That vet makes another injection, and Viktor holds the dog while she dies.

They take a taxi back to the apartment. Yuri makes some soup, but Viktor doesn't touch it. Viktor sits on the couch, and turns on the TV to drown out his feelings. After midnight, Yuri pulls Viktor's hand and leads him into the bedroom. Yuri pulls off Viktor's shoes, removes his belt, then lays him down. Yuri pulls a blanket over them, and cradles Viktor's head in his arms. They fall asleep.

Viktor wakes up with his neck sore from sleeping on Yuri's chest. He rubs his neck, and sees Yuri's eyes flutter open. Viktor says ruefully,  
“You're being kind. After I… betrayed you, and was brutally honest about my lack of morals, I thought you'd have nothing to do with me.”  
“I've always known about your moral laziness, but how did you betray me?” asks Yuri groggily.  
“I had sex with JJ. How could you forget? It went viral,” replies Viktor. Yuri grimaces, and replies,  
“You have terrible taste in men. But we aren't dating, and we're dating other people. So again, how did you betray me?”  
“I assumed you felt I cheated… you were crying and didn't want to see me…”  
“My grandmother died. I was upset because I missed her, and I wasn't home. When my dog died, I wasn't home. My friends now have kids, and I'm still wandering the world, dancing. And I was a bit jealous of JJ. He had the guts to do what I was too afraid to…” Yuri ruffles Viktor's hair, and leaves to take a shower.

Yuri walks into the kitchen, and sees Viktor staring out the window, ignoring a pile of vegetables. Yuri hugs him from behind, and says,  
“You did well – held her till she died. I wasn't home when my dog died, but sometimes I'm glad I wasn't. I'm scared of death. Aren't you?”  
“I'm a materialist, remember? As Epicurus said, why fear what we won't feel,” replies Viktor. Viktor gives up on the vegetables. He picks up a carrot, and munching on it, sits on the couch. Yuri follows.  
“Viktor… have you ever wanted to die?”  
“Suicidal thoughts? Not exactly. But the first year I made principal dancer, I went on a world tour. I had everything I'd ever dreamed about: dancing, fame, beautiful men… yet I wasn't happy. I wasn't unhappy either. I was on the rooftop of a very tall hotel building, and I wanted to jump. Not out of despair, it was like ... I wanted to fly for a moment… In French they call it l'appel du vide, the call of the void. It never happened again.”  
“I tried to kill myself. I had gotten a scholarship to join the ABT school, and I moved to New York. I was alone, my English wasn't very good. I was struggling with my new classes, and I couldn't talk to anyone. Everything felt hopeless. I ate way too much, and started to gain weight. My ballet teacher yelled at me. So I took a bunch of pills. I was hospitalized. When I woke up… I met Phichit. He had found me, then he adopted me. He made me understand my feelings were valid, but not necessarily real. That's the weird thing about emotions – one can feel intense love, hate, or despair… only to feel something completely different later. But I became afraid of myself – I knew I could do it,” finishes Yuri, surprised by his own confession.

Viktor imagines never having met Yuri, a world without him. It feels… lonely. He reaches over and hugs Yuri, unsure of how long he'll be allowed such intimacy.   
“I'm sorry you felt so isolated. Yuri, I'm glad you're still around. If you ever feel such darkness again, talk to me. You have my permission to even interrupt me on stage.”

Viktor doesn't let himself grieve for long, pushing himself to focus on dancing. A few days later, he notices a framed portrait of Makkachin on one of the shelves, with a candle and a small vase with flowers. He keeps forgetting the dog is gone, instinctually reaching for the leash in the morning, or saving a tidbit for the dog bowl. He misses his happy shadow.

Two weeks later, Viktor receives the laboratory results from the pork buns. Someone had injected them with a extreme laxative which is unpleasant for humans, but toxic to dogs. Viktor shows Yuri the report.  
“It was an accidental poisoning after all…” ruminates Viktor.  
“But it was still a very malicious act, and why were there posts about it? Someone thought they had sent you to the hospital, you could've been very sick,” worries Yuri.

That Friday is a performance night, Vasily dancing in Sleeping Beauty, Katsuki dancing in Giselle. Once back at the apartment, Vasily shows up with a bouquet of red roses for Yuri's birthday. Behind him, Plisetsky grumbles,  
“I contributed to the bouquet from the other dancers, I can't afford to buy bouquets all the time.”  
“Why is everyone buying me flowers?” questions Yuri.  
“Russian tradition. A trick by florists to stay in business. Hope you bought a lot of alcohol, everyone will be stopping by to eat and drink,” explains Plisetsky. Plisetsky is correct. For the next few hours, it seems like every dancer from the Mariinsky stops by, and the apartment fills up. He is receiving more flowers than Nikiforov after a performance. Overwhelmed by the amount of people, Yuri and Vasily hide in Yuri's bedroom.

In the living room, a ballerina pulls out a cigarette, and a lighter. Viktor runs over, and grabs the lighter.  
“Go outside if you want to poison yourself!” snarls Viktor. Mila waves to him, grinning.  
“Great party!” she taunts. Viktor pours Mila a glass of red wine.  
“I assume you're the one who invited all these people to my apartment?” inquires Viktor.  
“I'm trying to cheer you up! Plus, you couldn't refuse guests for sweet Katsuki's birthday…” she adds, “I see you still adore smokers.”   
Viktor scowls.   
“I'm glad Russia passed anti-smoking laws. You know I hate guests, but do I have to entertain them while Vasily seduces my roommate? Maybe I should interrupt before they get too far…I can't cope with that right now!” snaps Viktor.  
“Don't worry about that,” quips Mila. “Vasily won't do what you would do, if you were in there.”

Yuri is sitting at his desk chair, while Vasily sits on his bed.  
“I hate all the drama that surrounds ballet, especially the nastiness from other dancers,” complains Yuri.  
“Yes, yes. At the Bolshoi, women are forced into sleeping with rich men. Not long ago, a man named Pavel Dmitrichenko threw acid on the artistic director because his girlfriend didn't get a lead role. I heard of young ballerinas putting crushed glass inside of pointe shoes. But the men are not so bad. Still, I am a lucky one, who gets to dance for a living.”  
Yuri turns towards Vasily with a contrite look,  
“I have to be honest. I really like you, but…”  
“… you're in love with someone else. I suspected,” continues Vasily.  
“In love? Oh I hope not!” responds Yuri, horrified. “I would say… we lacked chemistry. Not that I'm an expert. What makes you think I'm in love?”  
“Your face lights up whenever Nikiforov is in the room. You should date him and get it out of your system. After he dumps you, call me. I really like you too. Dasvidaniya.”  
Vasily leaves the bedroom, then leaves the party. Yuri feels like a terrible person. He enters the living room, and sees Mila and Gorgi sitting on the floor stretching, each with a glass of wine.  
“The more I see of man, the more I like dogs,” says Mila towards Makkachin's photograph.   
“Yes, dogs are more loyal than women,” Gorgi agrees, a bit tipsy.  
Yuri heads to the kitchen, and quickly downs a large cup of wine, then pours himself another. Viktor comes up next to him, watching his behavior with surprise.  
“I've never seen you drink. What happened with Vasily?” asks Viktor.  
“We broke up,” Yuri curtly replies, grabbing the whole bottle, and joining the others on the floor. “Mila, what's the oddest place you've ever stretched?”  
“In the middle aisle of an airplane? At a Metro station? No, I know… A men's bathroom in London…” replies Mila with a giggle. Yuri nods.  
“I stretched in the bathroom of an airplane,” admits Yuri. “I took so much time, there was a line of people outside when I came out, all thinking I was constipated…”

All evening guests come by, toasting Katsuki's birthday. Katsuki becomes more and more drunk, till finally he is walking unevenly, and slurring his words.   
“I don't like birsh-days that end in 4. In Japanese, 4 meansh death,” explains Yuri.  
“Isn't that just a superstition?” inquires Viktor, watching Yuri drink straight out of the bottle.  
“No. I actually died. Never the shame afterwards,” says Yuri.  
Viktor ousts the rest of the guests, and takes Yuri for a sobering walk. In front of the Winter Palace, Yuri begins to dance, leaping and twirling on frozen grass. Viktor watches mesmerized by the wild movements.  
“You dance too!” entreats Yuri.  
“There's no music,” replies Viktor, smiling.  
“But there is! Deep in our shouls… you aren't lishening properly…”

Yuri wakes up on the living room floor, feeling like someone has kicked his head repeatedly. There is a blanket on him, and the floor smells like flowers. He opens his eyes a tiny bit, and sees blurry bits of red, white, yellow and pink on the floor. Petals. The floor is covered in flower petals. Then the horribly loud sound of heavy equipment pounds at his ears. Yuri covers his head, trying to protect himself from the pain. Then he hears Viktor yelling,  
“Here's a smoothie. Drink, it should help your hangover.”  
Yuri tastes a sweet vegetable mix, and feels Viktor pull him up onto the couch.  
“Just relax. I'll clean up your flower mess,” says Viktor way too loudly, removing a rose petal stuck to his cheek. Yuri whispers back,   
“Please do it quietly.”

Two days later,Viktor walks down a hallway of the Mariinsky, when Vasily stops him.  
“Yuri wants me to step aside, so I will. But you will hurt him. I wait for him to see I'm the better man,” declares Vasily earnestly.  
“Yuri already knows you're better, but he still wants me. I should say I'm sorry, but I'm not. He's mine, stay away from him,” replies Viktor coldly. Christophe watches the exchange from a distance, with interest.

That evening,Viktor sits on the couch, and motions for Yuri to join him.  
“You once asked why I became mean: it was survival. I showed great talent at a young age, instead of bonding with my peers, they resented me. There aren't many opportunities in the ballet world, even with looks and talent, I had to push and shove my way to the top. Once I became famous, I distrusted people even more. Everyone was fake and sycophantic. I preferred to be with someone like Christophe, who at least was not hiding his selfish nature,” explains Viktor.  
“Are you still… friends with him?” asks Yuri.  
“I don't trust him enough to be a friend.”  
Pleased, Yuri reaches over and kisses him.  
“It's confusing… When I'm with you I feel safe, but I also sense danger,” muses Yuri.  
“What's dangerous? Sex?” quizzes Viktor.  
Yuri reflects for a moment, realizing Viktor is a danger to his heart. But that sounds youthfully romantic.  
“I'm worried about being swept away,” replies Yuri, vaguely.  
“That reply took a while. You didn't used to hesitate when answering. You're learning to lie,” observes Viktor.  
“Not lying, but not telling the truth. I learned it from you,” replies Yuri. Viktor picks Yuri up, carries him to the guest bedroom, then kisses him soundly against the door.  
“Why does this feels so right? I yearn for you.” Viktor sighs. “I need to stop torturing myself. Good night.”  
Yuri nods, enters the room, and closes the door. His knees give out, as he slides to the floor.  
“I'm at my limit. I can't do this anymore,” whispers Yuri to himself, his whole body burning with desire.


	14. Chapter 14: Giving up

The next morning, Yuri hands Viktor a cup of coffee.  
“I give up,” blurts out Yuri. “I'm willing to… um, you know, do whatever… you want.”  
Viktor looks at him wryly.  
“I'm bowled over by your passion. You're sweeping me off my feet,” sarcastically deadpans Viktor.  
“Oh! So… is that yes?”  
“No. Woo me better than that,” replies Viktor, who theatrically huffs and leaves.

Back in his room, Viktor throws his laundry into the corner. What's wrong with him? Why did he say no? After all that effort, Yuri has finally given in, and Viktor can't believe he turned it down. Maybe stupidity is contagious. It's not like Christophe is right, he can't possibly have fallen for the innocent and good-natured virgin.

That afternoon, while Yuri is out, Viktor receives a bouquet of yellow carnations. Viktor mutters to himself,  
“Carnations! Who sends that? My style is upper-class and elegant, not country and shabby. I bet his Thai friend would like these flowers.” Viktor opens up the card, and reads aloud, “Please come dancing with me. Yuri.” Viktor flicks his hair back. “He better not bring me to some country hoedown.”

That evening, Viktor looks through his closet. A suit? A sweater and slacks? He spends most of his life in exercise clothes, and they don't seem appropriate for a date. A date? After all this time, Yuri has asked him out on a date! Viktor pulls out the tuxedo, then about four other suits. The burgundy! Actually, maybe it's more a maroon color… It has a really nice sheen to it, and some piping detail which looks good without a vest. Viktor spends even more time picking out a pair of shoes. He settles on the Louis Vuitton as the best for dancing. Then he comes out of his bedroom, and sees Yuri in the living room wearing the familiar ugly blue suit. Viktor freezes, realizing that they clash. He should go and change.  
“You look nice, Viktor! I, ... I mean, we… should go,” says Yuri nervously. Viktor nods, and follows. They head to a ballroom dance studio, which advertises a free lesson, then a social dance. The lady in charge, sporting a mass of yellow hair, seems enchanted to see them.  
“Welcome! We're always excited to have new dancers, and we are always short on men. Here's a brochure of all our classes…” greets the blonde woman.  
“We are here to dance with each other. Do you have a problem with that?” demands Viktor pointedly.  
The woman sighs dramatically.  
“Of course, that's fine, just a little disappointing…” she laments, gazing longingly at Viktor. “Who will be leading?”  
Yuri looks at Viktor like he had not thought about this aspect. Viktor sighs, and decides,  
“I will lead. What dance are we learning?”  
“Tango,” announces the woman.

The teacher begins,  
“In tango, the hold is important, but the leader should thrust forward from the pelvis, with large steps, to show the passion of this dance.”  
Viktor holds himself ready in dance position, while Yuri tentatively holds his hands. The teacher shoves Yuri till their bodies are touching, then adjusts his arms and shoulders.  
“You look embarrassed. Is it because our… pelvises are touching?” questions Viktor.  
“Yes. I misread the schedule, I thought we would be dancing the waltz…” admits Yuri. Yuri usually does well in learning new steps, but rubbing up against Viktor completely ruins his concentration. They take a break, and Yuri smiles at a petite woman standing bored against the wall.  
“We can dance at least one dance with these unpartnered women,” offers Yuri, pushing Viktor towards a tall brunette. Viktor partners the tall woman distractedly, he keeps watching Yuri with the petite dark-haired woman. His dancing is improved, and he seems much more relaxed. Once the dance is over, Viktor steps outside irritated.   
“Are you hungry? There is a little bistro near here,” offers Yuri, puzzled by the mood change.  
“I'm going home,” replies Viktor sullenly.

Once at the apartment, Viktor makes himself a sandwich, while Yuri hovers.  
“Explain what I'm doing wrong,” insists Yuri.  
“I hate carnations… no, that's not really relevant. You prefer to dance with women… What I'm trying to say is, you don't want to have sex with men. Yuri, you're just pent up. You're probably not even gay. Find yourself a girl...” says Viktor, trying to distance himself from Yuri.  
“I... don't agree... I...”   
“If you were into guys, you would have gone down on me by now...” snarls Viktor. Yuri nods, looking downtrodden. Viktor takes a deep breath, about to apologize for his outburst. But Yuri unzips his pants, and fumbles with Viktor's belt buckle. Viktor puts a hand down to block Yuri's access, and declares,  
“That won't be necessary. It's okay to be attracted to me and not be gay. It happens. It would explain our ridiculous relationship,” insists Viktor. Yuri gets a stubborn look on his face, like when he has trouble with a combination. Yuri protests,  
“You have it wrong! I'm not straight, I'm just… really anxiety prone. And I asked for chrysanthemums, a precious flower for the Japanese.”  
Yuri finally undoes the belt buckle, and yanks Viktor's pants down. Viktor is wearing his usual tiny black briefs which highlights the paleness of his skin. Yuri tugs at the small piece of black fabric, and licks his lips nervously at the very pale penis with silvery white hair. Yuri tentatively licks the side of it, then the other side. Viktor is holding on to the kitchen counter, barely able to breathe. Yuri opens his mouth wide, and takes about half of the penis in his mouth. There is a salty acrid taste, which is interesting. Yuri awkwardly tries to move, experimenting half kneeling, then just sucks for a little bit. Yuri glances up and realizes the best part is watching Viktor's face. Viktor's cheeks are slightly flushed, his mouth open, his head tilted back. Yuri stops, and hears Viktor moan in protest. Yuri's jaw is already aching, so he goes back to licking the shaft, and even dares to caress the balls.  
“I'm close…” warns Viktor. Yuri takes his hand, and strokes the penis which now has a purplish color. The come spurts onto the floor and into his hands, and Yuri tastes it, gingerly. Viktor grabs a cloth and wipes Yuri, then the floor.  
“How do I taste? Never mind. Get some sleep. Tomorrow, tell me if you're gay.”

Viktor wakes up to the sound of Yuri talking on the phone. He sees Yuri's door open, and enters Yuri's bedroom. Yuri is trying to whisper, but he is getting emotional and his voice is becoming louder.  
“I don't know what to say, Phichitto-kun, I don't know what I'm doing! And I haven't asked Viktor what he wants…” Yuri stay silent for a moment. “That's easy for you to say, you talk to everyone…”  
Viktor comes up behind him, and snatches the phone away.  
“Phichit? It's Viktor. We're dating, Yuri bought me flowers and asked me to dance yesterday,” announces Viktor. “Well, maybe Yuri needs somebody more challenging. He would've just been bored with that nice soloist.” Then he hands back the phone. Yuri has gone pale, and stammers into the phone,  
“I was going to tell you, I was just waiting to see… what happened.” Yuri listens to some kind of chastisement from his friend. Viktor sees Yuri's laptop open, and admires dozens of little photos of naked men in erotic positions. Yuri sees the laptop screen, and blanches even more.  
“Phichit, we'll talk later, I've got to go.” Yuri closes the laptop, “This is my room, please give me some privacy.”  
“Of course, I'll let you get back to your research.”

The next evening, they barely get in the door, when Viktor is unbuttoning his shirt, very slowly.   
Yuri swallows several times. Then he puts his hand on Viktor's belt buckle, then changes his mind.  
“Uh, ...I hate to ask now but… have you been tested lately?” asks Yuri awkwardly.  
“I see my physician every month, I'm tested every month. I always wear protection. Good?” answers Viktor, nibbling on Yuri's ear.  
“I guess… I'm not thinking straight. Should I be asking anything else?”  
“No. Just tell me stop, if you need to stop.”  
Viktor pulls Yuri's leg up to his neck, hooks a finger on his sock, and slowly pulls it off. Yuri moans from the stretch. Viktor does other leg.  
“I loathe a naked man with socks on… such a turnoff,” explains Viktor. “Your turn.”  
“My turn to what?” questions Yuri, feeling clueless.  
“Undress me,” clarifies Viktor. Yuri tries to swallow but his mouth feels completely dry. The little pearl buttons on Viktor's shirt are tiny and difficult. He can't believe how nervous he is, and they're not even naked yet. The last buttons are tucked in to Viktor's pants. He pulls out the shirt, and stumbles on the last two buttons trying not to touch Viktor's pants. Now what? Remove socks. Avoiding any eye contact, Yuri kneels down and focuses on the pattern of the socks. They look like hounds tooth, and they feel silkier than any of his socks. Yuri stares at Viktor's toes, they are strong and calloused.  
“Would you like to suck them?” questions Viktor. Yuri looks up startled.  
“Uh,… no thanks, I don't have a foot fetish,” answers Yuri. Yuri stares at the wall. Why did he say that? After all that erotic buildup, Viktor will discover Yuri is the worst lover on the planet. How humiliating!  
“Yuri? Yuri! Look at me,” insists Viktor, stroking his cheek. “You're thinking too much. Just kiss me,” murmurs Viktor. Yuri gives him a quick peck, and Viktor looks at him with a challenging look. Yuri kisses him again, a bit longer. Viktor brings them to his bedroom, lies on the bed, waiting to see if Yuri does anything more. Yuri gives up, and curls up into a ball.  
“Shall we watch TV?” questions Viktor.  
“If you want. Sorry,… sorry… sorry,” Yuri manages to say.  
“Did you learn to do a fouetté in one day?”  
“No, but that's a difficult physical trick, any teenager can have sex,” mutters Yuri. Viktor appears pensive. Eventually he asks,  
“How do you want to proceed? We can try this every night, and slowly wait till you're comfortable for the next step…”   
Yuri uncurls his body, and feeling frustrated, blurts out,  
“I've made you wait for months! I'm fed up with my own anxiety about this…”  
“I will do something, then you will.”  
Viktor kisses Yuri's face, on the forehead, on the nose, the cheeks and finally the lips.  
“Your turn.”  
Yuri repeats Viktor's motions exactly, the way he imitates choreography. Viktor frowns, then realizes that copying is a fine idea for Yuri's first time.  
“That's good. You can keep mirroring me, or do something else. Whatever feels right.”  
Viktor takes off Yuri's pants, so Yuri does the same. Viktor takes off his own underpants, but Yuri freezes up unable to do the same.  
“Lie down with me,” Viktor coaxes. “Here's what I'm going to do. I will pull down your briefs, wrapped my hand around our members, and give us both some pleasure. Nod if that's okay.”  
Yuri nods, but keeps his eyes squeezed shut. He gulps as Viktor caresses his penis through the fabric. Viktor decides to focus on Yuri, and plays with the penis through the briefs. When Yuri becomes very aroused, then he pulls down the elastic, and plays with the erect member till Yuri convulses in pleasure. Then Viktor pulls a blanket over the two of them, and tries to sleep.  
“Viktor? You're still… hard. Should I use my hand?”  
“Never mind. Let's get some sleep.”  
“Viktor?”  
Irritated, Viktor snaps,  
“Now what?”  
“I think I'm gay.”  
Viktor laughs. “I think you're gay too.”

The next morning, Yuri runs away from the room. He hides for the rest of the day, till in the evening Viktor can corner him and drag him to the couch.  
“Tell me what your over analytical mind has concocted…” insists Viktor.  
“What are you talking about?” replies Yuri evasively.  
“You've been avoiding me, why?”  
Yuri slumps forward, and hides his face.  
“You've been pursuing me for months. We finally… do stuff and it's… not good. It's not something I really want to discuss. I had hoped I would perform better on our one night stand.”  
“You're dumping me after one night?” quizzes Viktor.  
“No, you are,” insist Yuri.  
“Aargh! I don't know if I should laugh, or berate you! You believe after all the time and effort I put into courting you, I want a quick fuck?” Viktor throws his head back. “Yuri, did you enjoy our time together?”  
“Yes, when I wasn't too nervous. But you didn't.”  
“I disagree. I enjoyed myself as well. I like it when you touch me. It doesn't matter that we don't have a perfect partnership the first time.” Viktor trails a finger on Yuri's cheek. “Sex is a dance, and for your information, we will be practicing most nights till we perfect that dance. So don't make any other plans.”


	15. Chapter 15: Practice Makes Perfect

The next evening, Viktor decides to be direct.  
“Let's go straight to the bedroom,” offers Viktor, holding out his hand. Yuri hesitates, then asks,  
“Are you dating anyone else?”  
“Not really. I know some people with whom I have occasional sex. It's not really dating.”  
“While we are… having sex, will you promise not do it with anyone else?”  
“Sure. I wouldn't have the time or energy anyways.”

Viktor pulls Yuri's shirt off, then kisses and nibbles Yuri's arms. Then he removes Yuri's pants, leaving underpants on. Then Viktor sucks and licks Yuri's nipples, moving upwards, to give him a kiss.  
“What are you going to do?” questions Yuri.  
“I'm going to show you how to pleasure a man. Pay attention, there will be a quiz later,” replies Viktor.  
Viktor spends more time kissing and licking various areas, while ignoring Yuri's bulge. Finally Viktor removes his clothes, grabs some lube, and starts preparing himself. Yuri's face is beet red. Viktor takes a break and puts Yuri's glasses back on.  
“I don't want you to miss the show,” explains Viktor. Then he pulls Yuri's underpants down, finally liberating a shorter erect penis with black hair. Viktor slowly lowers himself down, enjoying the pressure and the fullness, and the contrast of their skin. Viktor moves his bottom up and down, reveling in the buildup of pleasure. Viktor watches Yuri's face go from complete shock to gasping in pleasure, as he feels Yuri goes soft inside of him.  
“How was that?” questions Viktor.  
“I don't think I've ever… came so hard,” admits Yuri.   
Viktor stretches like a cat, and gets up to leave.  
“Please don't go. I want … I mean… maybe we could…?” continues Yuri. Viktor tilts his head, and asks,  
“I'm thirsty, would you like some water?”   
Yuri nods his head, and grabs a blanket and covers himself. They both drink a bit, then Yuri grabs Viktor's arm, not knowing what to do next.  
“Is this your way of asking for more?” asks Viktor.  
Yuri bites his lip and then says,  
“I want to… completely lose my virginity.”  
“Tell me more.”  
“I saw the photo of you with JJ, I can't get it out of my head,” admits Yuri.  
Viktor feels a flash of anger.  
“I regret that whole incident, I let my penchant for vengeance get the better of me. I wish I'd never touched that blithering idiot. Anyhow, I can't do it.”  
“Why not?” questions Yuri, surprised by the denial. Viktor gives him a quick kiss, and looks straight into Yuri's eyes.  
“I care enough about you to let you go. However, if I fuck that perfect ass of yours, I probably won't be able to…”  
Viktor smiles wryly, and leaves to take a shower.

Viktor enjoys the hot water pouring over him. He's definitely in way over his head, and he's must put some distance between the two of them. Yuri needs to find his own apartment. Suddenly there's a whoosh of cold air. Yuri joins him in the shower. Yuri grabs some body wash, and soaps up.  
“I tried to do the honorable thing,” growls Viktor, pushing Yuri against the tiles, and kissing him deeply. Viktor grabs the shower head, changes it to a focused stream, and uses it on Yuri's ass.   
“What are you doing?” asks Yuri, jerking in surprise.  
“A variation on an enema…” replies Viktor. The warm water is cleansing and relaxing. Viktor inserts a finger, and Yuri squirms in discomfort.  
“You need to retrain your mind. Here's your homework for this week. When you play with yourself, also insert a finger, eventually your mind will associate the pleasures.”

Viktor usually keeps his lovers at a distance. He doesn't let them into his home, he doesn't spend the night, and he doesn't make any future plans. And yet, he's living with Yuri, they've slept some nights together, and he had just promised to be lovers for a while. Basically, Viktor has failed to put up any boundaries. Tonight, he'll insist they sleep apart. Viktor puts on his pajamas, and notices Yuri has done the same.  
Good night, Viktor,” says Yuri, and leaves for his own bedroom. Viktor nods, feeling strangely bereft. He lies down in his bed, and turns off the light. Then he groans. The bed feels empty. Viktor grits his teeth, and whispers sternly to himself,  
“I slept with him for one night, well, maybe a few times, I am NOT lonely.”  
Viktor tosses and turns. Then disgusted with himself, he gets up and knocks on Yuri's door.  
“Yes?” replies Yuri, yawning. Viktor walks in, puts his arms around Yuri's back and under his knees, and lifts him out of bed. “Viktor? What are you doing?”  
“You're a bad influence on me. I can't sleep.” Viktor places Yuri in his bed, then pulls the covers over, and turns off the light. Irritated with himself, Viktor turns away from Yuri, and faces the wall. He feels a tapping on the shoulder.  
“Viktor? If you don't cuddle with me I'm leaving,” warns Yuri. Viktor turns back towards Yuri and pulls him into his arms. “You could have asked me to sleep with you,” grumbles Yuri.  
“I'm not allowed to need anyone, so no I couldn't ask,” whispers Viktor.

Viktor wakes up from the same pleasant dream he had in Hasetsu and Venice. He was standing on a small island. It was warm and sunny, with sun baked rocks, and a few plants. Makkachin scampered about, happily chasing a gull that had landed close. Viktor smiles a little sadly. It would be nice if Makkachin were happy somewhere.

Yuri wakes up the next morning, facing the signed photograph of Nureyev. He stares at it for a while, there's something unnerving about it. Yuri wonders why, till he hears Viktor behind him,  
“Fascinated with Nureyev?”  
“He was wearing harem pants and the plume on his head for the Ali variation in Le Corsaire,” Yuri points out.  
“The Rhab or slave variation was developed by Vaganova, and only performed in Russia until Nureyev went to Paris. The French went crazy for his performance, they'd never seen anything like it. Nureyev transformed the male roles in ballet, turning them into stars instead of supports for the women.”

By the end of the week, they settle into a new routine. On performing nights, they go straight to bed. Other nights, they explore each other's bodies. Yuri had thought having sex would satiate his body. Instead, an even bigger need has been awakened. Yuri craves more, he can't think of anything else. Although still a bit standoffish at work, at night Viktor clings to him while sleeping. Yuri keeps waking with a throbbing erection, tempted to wake him, but steadfastly lying there uncomfortably instead. He can't believe how quickly he's become habituated to being touched by Viktor, and to sleeping in his bed. It's an odd, animalistic contentment to curling up next to Viktor's body, the familiar odor of cologne and sweat pervading the sheets.

Finally, Monday arrives with a full day off.  
“We need to do shopping, laundry, and…” says Yuri, making a list on his phone.  
“First, we're having sex,” announces Viktor, dragging Yuri to the shower. They wash everywhere,  
then they towel off. Viktor picks Yuri up, and places him at the edge of the mattress.  
“You don't have to bottom. Lots of people, men and women decide not to… You're not a virgin anymore…” lectures Viktor.  
“I want to feel you inside me… it scares me, but it …turns me on,” confesses Yuri, blushing. They kiss, and explore each other's bodies.  
“I feel so naked when I'm naked,” remarks Yuri nervously. Viktor chuckles,  
“I've developed inner armor, so I'm never naked.”  
“Spread your legs,” orders Viktor. Yuri does as he's told. Viktor sucks on his penis, while inserting a finger.  
“I'm feeling self-conscious, hold me close,” pleads Yuri. Viktor nods, and Yuri wraps his arms around Viktor's neck. Yuri feels another finger, and groans in response. Entwined, Yuri feels Viktor's hot flesh pressing into him, then he feels his backside clench.  
“Are you okay?” Viktor says tenderly. Yuri shakes his head no.  
“It won't go any further…” admits Yuri.  
“It can take minutes for the muscles to relax,” reassures Viktor.  
“In the meantime, I'm just supposed to check my email?” replies Yuri, slightly panicked. “I thought sex was supposed to be sultry and mind blowing, not awkward and… whatever this is!”   
“Sex is like the rest of life: messy, needs work, and sometimes amazing. Mmm, your eyes are gorgeous, so dark, with long lashes, and when you dance they sparkle, and…”  
Yuri feels his behind relax, feeling an odd fullness.  
“Now what?” whispers Yuri with very round eyes. Viktor whispers back,  
“If you feel like it, you move, up… then back down…but first, kiss me.”  
Viktor assaults Yuri's mouth, till Yuri feels like he's tingling and melting. Then Yuri tentatively raises and lowers his bottom. “I feel like a kid going potty, it was a lot sexier when you were doing it.”

Viktor is thankful he still has an erection, he was very close to laughing. But now, he's having the opposite problem, completely turned on by Yuri's motions and little gasps of pleasure. Yuri looks straight into his eyes.  
“Oh!… That kind of feels good…I, oh, I … Viktor!”  
Viktor feels his body thrusting, and his whole body spasms, as Yuri collapses on top of him. Viktor watches Yuri's face, it is glowing, and happy, and directed towards him…the kitchen face! Viktor is overwhelmed by emotions, and the crazy attraction between them. As Yuri lies in his arms, his heart still beating wildly, Viktor there's a feeling of… rightness. Viktor wonders if all his feelings are visible to Yuri, he'd never felt so… vulnerable during sex. 

The Neva river freezes over, and snow blankets the city. As darkness takes over, everyone seeks warmth indoors. For Yuri, there is barely a moment to think, with dancing during the day, and sex at night. At least, the sex is improving. In fact, the more they spend time in bed, the more he's drowning in pleasurable feelings. Viktor has quickly learned all of Yuri's sweet spots, and uses them mercilessly. Yuri still feels uncomfortable performing such intimate acts, and often retreats into the safety of lying there passively.   
“I hate that you have so much power over me,” agonizes Yuri.  
Viktor laughs. “You have just as much power over me.”  
After a particularly intense session, Yuri begins to cry. Viktor brings him into the shower. Viktor slowly washes them both off, murmuring appeasing words in Russian.  
“I can't… I can't,” wails Yuri. Viktor hugs him.  
“You can't what?”  
“I can't just lie there. Show me how to… do stuff!”  
“Okay. Do you like to be bitten?” asks Viktor.  
“No! Do you?” replies Yuri, stunned by the question.  
“Sometimes.”

The next morning, Yuri can scarcely concentrate in the morning ballet class. Viktor has a bite-size hickey on his left shoulder, and has therefore decided to wear a shirt that barely covers his chest. Mila observes Yuri's reaction.  
“Katsuki, are you upset someone gave Viktor a hickey? Or are you upset everyone can see you gave Viktor hickey?” questions Mila, with a sly smile. Yuri tries to look nonchalant, and replies,  
“Maybe if you had your own love life, you wouldn't bother with everybody else's…”  
Mila laughs.   
“So you bit Viktor! You wouldn't be so sassy if it were someone else…”

“Viktor… you memorized all these places that turn me on…”  
“The neck behind the ears, your nipples, when I lick your…” expounds Viktor helpfully. Yuri interrupts,  
“How… How do I find out your areas?”  
“Yes, I've noticed that you're too shy to experimentally find out. I'm partial to being touched just about anywhere…”  
Yuri stops in frustration.  
“I can always tell when you're hiding something!” growls Yuri.  
“Fine. I like analingus, touching the seam of my testicles, and there's a spot on the inside of my thighs…” quickly expounds Viktor, as if talking quickly will lessen the impact. Yuri grabs his phone, and checks the email Viktor had sent him on sex.  
“Una lingus? You didn't explain about that…”  
Viktor tries to take the phone away.  
“Let's just explore each other,” pleads Viktor. But Yuri is trying to make sense of the Internet search.  
“All I can find is Aer Lingus, an Irish airline. Do you have a fetish for airplanes?”  
“Anal-lingus, as in rimming! Using the tongue on the… back passage,” explains Viktor, exasperated. Yuri's eyes become very wide.   
“You… didn't tell me about that, is that sanitary?”  
Viktor groans.  
“You make me feel like I'm perverting the youth of Athens. Haven't you watched gay porn?”  
“No. I feel naughty just downloading photos of naked men.”

“I understand why you like kissing and all the other sexual stuff. But… how can you do it with just anyone? It's so intimate…” muses Yuri.  
“Mostly I just have a quick… encounter with other men. I don't spend hours kissing on the couch, or discussing Nietzsche,” replies Viktor.  
“Viktor, why do you treat me in a special way?”  
“Because I want to.”  
“Stop avoiding the question. Why do you want to?”  
“Why do you? Vasily was the better choice…”  
“Something clicks when you're with me. Like everything is all right. So I decided I wanted you to be my first lover.”  
Viktor bristles at that declaration. Yuri said first lover, in a way that implies there will be many after him.

Yuri is walking towards the entrance of the old Mariinsky, when he spots a familiar face.  
“Tamara!”  
An older woman, with a round face, dark eyes and wrinkles with short hair dyed an unnatural shade of red turns towards him puzzled.  
“Excuse me? I don't know you,” she replies in Russian. Yuri stares at her in confusion.  
“I'm sorry, I don't know where I know you from… but I remember your name.”  
“And what is your name?” she replies with a big smile.  
“Yuri Katsuki. I'm originally from Japan, but now I'm dancing with the Kirov. Have a wonderful day, Tamara Varvara!”  
The woman pales at that greeting, but nods her head and continues on her way.


	16. Chapter 16: Shall I Tell You What I Think of You

Feltsman has been teaching the dances for Swan Lake. He observes Katsuki do the jester variation, and shrugs halfheartedly. Yuri realizes this is a great compliment, and smiles as Feltsman comes close to him.  
“Not bad. I suppose blackmailing me into hiring you has paid off,” Feltsman says gruffly.  
“Blackmail? I never even asked you. You asked me,” remembers Yuri.  
“Viktor forced me to, I thought it was at your request.”  
Yuri looks appalled.  
“I'm so sorry, I… had no idea you didn't want me,” apologizes Yuri.  
“Really? Well, of course, Viktor had his reasons.”  
Yuri grabs the barre, his eyes wide. He stutters,   
“Why… why did he force you?”  
Feltsman grumbles something, then sees Plisetsky.  
“Lilia wants to show you off at some dinner, so watch that mouth of yours!” shouts Feltsman as he leaves. Plisetsky leaps over.  
“Are you gonna puke? Don't do it here,” says Plisetsky to Katsuki.  
“… Viktor forced Feltsman-san to hire me,” exclaims Katsuki.  
“Viktor did more than that! He bribed my upstairs neighbor to flood my apartment, he paid off some hotel to lose your reservation, and he gave me a role in Journey to Love so I would move out.”  
“Oh no! You guys must hate me,” whispers Katsuki. Plisetsky rolls his eyes at him.  
“Duh! Don't worry, Yakov isn't a wuss, even Viktor can't force him to do much.”  
Katsuki holds his stomach, overwhelmed with guilt.

Once again, Viktor feels Yuri pull away. Yuri disappears in his own bedroom, locking the door. Viktor reflects on his actions, wondering what triggered it. Normally, he would check Yuri's emails and texts, but he resists the temptation and simply waits.

Viktor comes home with restaurant takeout, and overhears Yuri talking in his bedroom.  
“I'm confused! … No I agree.… It will be weird to have sex with someone else… Really! Explain… … … Wow! That's great!… Yes, that's what I'm planning. Take care.”

The next morning,Viktor and Yuri are running late, on top of which Viktor is unable to find his cell phone. Viktor picks up Yuri's cell phone, and asks,  
“May I call my phone with yours?” Yuri nods his head. “What's the password?”  
“The same as it's ever been,” replies Yuri. Viktor shakes his head,  
“I told you to change it,” growls Viktor, irritated.

The next few days, Viktor looks at Yuri's phone like a piece of chocolate left out to taunt him. Eventually, he gives in to temptation and looks through Yuri's emails and texts. One email catches his attention.

To: Katsuki Yuri  
From: Phichit Chulanont

Dear Yuri,  
having you so far away makes me miss you so much. I've been wondering whether or not to say something, but I've decided to be honest. I'm desperately in love with you, and I wonder if you could possibly feel the same towards me? A quick no will silence me forever.  
Yours truly,  
Phichit

Dear Phichitto-kun,  
I don't know how to respond, except to say that deep down I feel the same way towards you that you feel towards me. I can't believe you wrote that email,  
Yuri

Viktor feels a churning in his gut. He knew the two men were close friends but… Yuri acts so tenderly towards Viktor. Viktor puts the phone down, then takes a deep breath, and reads the last email in the series.

Dear Yuri,  
I had to write to you, because I don't believe people can change overnight. I'm glad Viktor is treating you better, but I expect him to return to his selfish ways… And Yuri, you deserve to be loved by a good and true person. So if you're reading this, Viktor, you bleached worm, it isn't for Yuri to change his password, it is for you to mind your own business and respect his boundaries.  
Phichit

Viktor puts the phone down, feeling like an idiot. Phichit has a point. Are Yuri's feelings surviving getting to know the real Viktor?

Viktor shows up to the Swan Lake premiere a bit late, and already in costume. He sees Yuri in the hallway, but ignores him. He walks by without saying anything, and goes straight to Christophe.  
“Are you performing tonight?” questions Viktor.  
“I don't know why you care, but no. I'm technically Popovich's understudy, yet Feltsman wants Vasily to perform Von Rothbart,” Christophe answers bitterly.  
“That's a mistake. You would be better in the role. And I made a mistake as well. I thought I belonged with someone sweet and innocent, that it would make me a better person. I'd prefer to be with my own kind, if you're still interested.”  
Christophe looks at him with slitted eyes, then nods imperceptibly.  
“Help me get the role. We'll see after that…” suggests Christophe.

Yuri watches the interchange, disappointed and disgusted with Viktor. Yuri reminds himself the relationship with Viktor is temporary. He should end it soon.

Christophe comes up to Katsuki, with a triumphant smile.  
“So I heard Viktor finally won our bet. He's incredibly persistent isn't he? He's been pursuing me for years. He finally won his way into my pants.”  
Yuri looks steadily at Christophe, not showing any surprise.  
“Yes. I knew about the bet. You're welcome to him of course, I hope you treat him well,” replies Yuri calmly.  
“You did? And how did you enjoy the photos with JJ?” quizzes Christophe.  
“I felt sorry for his wife. Whoever posted those pictures is cruel. And there's no need to worry about me. I'm ending it with Viktor tonight.”  
“Good. I knew he would tire of you. Viktor and I understand each other, we belong together.” 

Mila takes one look at Yuri in his jester costume, and shakes her head.  
“You look sad, not at all like the happy jester. What's wrong?” she asks.  
“I no longer want to play the part of a fool, especially Viktor's fool. And yes, Mila, I am Viktor's fool, not Prince Siegfried's. Where's Viktor? Isn't he performing soon?” asks Katsuki.  
“Viktor is having trouble with his costume. Katsuki, although everyone is deceived by Von Rothbart, the evil sorcerer, it is possible to break his spell.”

Yakov stands in the wings, watching Swan Lake begin. The whole royal court is out on a picnic in the woods, and Viktor shows up right before his stage entrance. His performance of Prince Siegfried is muted, lacking its usual charisma. Katsuki performs next, but keeps wincing throughout his dance. He appears to be in pain, and his face is covered in sweat.  
“Are you injured?” demands Yakov as soon as he comes off stage. Katsuki removes his slippers. His feet are unusually raw, and inflamed.   
“What's wrong, what happened?” growls Yakov.  
“My feet had a reaction to the inside of my slippers. Someone has tampered with them, put some kind of irritating substance that soaked through my tights once I started to sweat.” 

Yuri has a long break, as Prince Siegfried dances a long variation with the female swans. Vasily shows up in the wings as Baron Von Rothbart, dressed in a black doublet, purple tights, and a big black cloak. He is limping. There is a gloomy feeling with everyone offstage.  
“Vasily has been attacked. They say Nikiforov clubbed his knee,” says one ballerina.  
“Impossible! He would never do such a thing. Where is he?” protests Yuri.  
Feltsman orders,  
“Christophe, quickly put on the Von Rothbart costume, and dance the part.”

As Act II begins, the scene returns to the interior of the castle, all the dancers wait in the wings. Viktor admires Christophe dressed as Von Rothbart, and gives him a kiss on the lips. Yuri witnesses the exchange, then goes on stage to dance the jester again with his painful feet. After entertaining the court, Yuri is on the sidelines, and sees Mila in black as Odile. Christophe grins widely, completely unfazed by all the drama. Mila pokes him.  
“A ruble for your thoughts?” she offers.  
“Please be careful. Remember von Rothbart kills Siegfried, and takes Odette with him.”  
Mila looks at him with concern.  
“Not in this version. We dance the happy ending, don't you remember?”  
Yuri stares at a blank wall, trying to get through the terrible evening. 

Christophe has changed costumes, and is now wearing black tights, with dark wings and the headdress of an owl. The performance continues till Viktor as Siegfried pulls the wings off of the evil sorcerer, Von Rothbart, who writhes on stage. Odette the Swan is returned to human form, and is reunited with her love Siegfried. The whole company does a bow, Viktor, Christophe and Mila come forward for a bow. They are handed bouquets of flowers. As the audience members get up to leave, many seem to stop, and be staring at their phones. The dancers stand there, but the curtain doesn't drop as usual. More and more audience members talk to each other and are pointing at their phones. Many are pointing up at the stage. A ballerina comes up behind Christophe, and whispers to him, pointing to her phone. Christophe loses his smile, and appears in shock. The audience becomes quiet, then the sound of whispering is heard all around them.

As soon as the curtain is down, Viktor heads straight to Yuri, picks him up around the waist, and carries him to his private dressing room.  
“Yuri, I'm very sorry I treated you badly.” Viktor pulls off part of his doublet, exposing some wires. “I suspected Christophe was orchestrating the accidents around the theater. But since he was inspiring other people to do his dirty work, he was hard to accuse. Earlier this evening, I recorded him saying that his lovers were sabotaging other dancers. I posted it online as soon as I could.”  
“Why didn't you tell me about this plan?” cries Yuri, wrapping his arms around his knees.  
“Your face reveals everything. For Christophe to trust me, he had to see you look hurt and disappointed.”  
Yuri pulls out his phone, and watches the video. The image is surprisingly good, and Christophe's voice is clearly audible.  
“I finally realized that I hate women. They are despicable creatures, prattling endlessly about love, then viciously attacking each other. I've been sleeping with three different women at the Mariinsky, and they have been outdoing each other to gain my love. One of them has been placing pieces of scenery in the wings, one of them has been tampering with food, and the third, even managed to have the floor in Moscow theater polished. I promised I would devote myself to the winner, but actually, I have demeaning photos of them naked I can blackmail them with....” Yuri turns off his phone. Viktor adds,  
“I bought some top-of-the-line spy equipment, and…”  
Yuri ignores Viktor, and leaves the room, looking completely demoralized.

The next day, Yuri visits Vasily at the hospital with a bouquet of flowers.  
“How is your leg?” asks Yuri ruefully.  
Vasily shrugs, and replies,  
“I was lucky. The woman bruised my knee, there is only a slight tear in my tendons. I'm glad she hurt me and not you.”  
“A woman? Some say Viktor did it.”  
“I believe it was Olga, dressed in Viktor's costume. I don't blame her. Christophe had told her lies. I'm sorry Yuri, I'm sorry I didn't protect you from him.”  
“I'm fine. And hopefully you will be too. I heard Christophe fled the country.”


	17. Chapter 17: The Longest Night

With winter comes darkness. The sun does not rise till after 9am, and sets around 4pm, staying low on the horizon all day, never quite illuminating the city. The weather is cold, but seems colder due to the constant humidity. Viktor watches Yuri turn inward, and become silent and moody. Yuri seems subdued, maybe depressed. After months of darkness and cold, it is common for residents of St. Petersburg to turn to coffee and booze. Viktor gives a large box to Yuri.  
“What's this?” asks Yuri halfheartedly.  
“A present for you,” replies Viktor.  
Yuri opens it to reveal a lamp.  
“Your apartment is incredibly well lit, why would I need a lamp?”  
“It's a full spectrum light, it helps with seasonal affective disorder.”

Viktor hesitates, but dials Phichit's number.  
“Hello, would you share warning signs of suicide, I don't think he's there, but he does seem depressed…” confides Viktor. Phichit takes a deep breath.   
“Eating too much, not eating at all, sleeping too much, not sleeping at all… Sudden extremes and a constant sadness… Is it you? Are you still toying with him?” accuses Phichit.  
“I'm on my best behavior, but since the latest attacks, he's been ...dispirited.”

After days and days of worry, Viktor is relieved when Yuri invites Mila, Gorgi, Yulia, and himself out for drinks.  
“Thank you all for making me feel welcome, and making me an even better dancer. To Russia!” shouts Yuri.  
“To Russia!” they all shout. Yuri drinks shot after shot, determined to get very drunk. Viktor raises his glass, but doesn't drink it. Last time, Yuri needed caretaking after too many drinks.  
“Viktor. I have to tell you ...shomething important,” slurs Yuri.  
“You're drunk, so tell me whatever you'd like,” encourages Viktor.   
“St. Petershburg ish beautiful. The train shtations are like castles, with shtained glass and marble. Viktor, Viktor, Viktor. I love… your hair. So white and soft…I'm falling in…” Yuri's face falls forward onto the table. Viktor smiles at Yuri, removing his sweater to put under his head. He's an adorable drunk. 

Yuri wakes up with a terrible hangover, and shudders in pain when his phone rings. Phichit doesn't say hi.  
“Why are you still seeing him?” demands Phichit.  
“He's like a drug,” mumbles Yuri.  
“Well, go into rehab! You're depressed because of him. And I can't fly to Russia to help you.”  
“I know,” Yuri replies, hanging up and wincing.

Viktor arrives at his apartment with several bags of groceries. He plans to make a smoothie to help with Yuri's hangover, but senses no one is home. Where is Yuri? He looks in Yuri's bedroom. He finds the bed carefully made, and the closet empty. Yuri's toiletries are missing from the bathroom. Viktor feels his stomach turn over. Did Yuri move to another apartment? He checks his phone, and listens to a voicemail:  
“It's time for me to leave. Oh,… I just wanted to say… take care, Viktor.”

Viktor tries calling Yuri several times, but only gets voicemail. He calls Yakov,  
“Have you heard from Yuri?”  
“Yes, I received a letter of resignation a couple days ago, he is retiring. He is very sensitive that one, unlike you. I told him you had pressured me into training him, which upset him. He returned to Japan.” Yakov recommends, “Vitya, careerwise, it's better to be single.”  
“A couple days ago? That means he's been planning this…I have to get him back. Yakov, this isn't like my obsession with Sasha, I have real feelings for Yuri.”  
Yakov sighs in exasperation.  
“Vitya, you're like family. So I'll say Katsuki is honest and serious. You'll have to behave if you want him in your life. Since I'm partially to blame for him leaving, if he comes back within the week – he can have his job back.”  
Viktor calls Phichit.  
“Hello, it's Viktor. Have you talked to Yuri? Is he all right?”  
“Of course he's not all right! At least Yuri is smart enough to know attraction is not the same thing as love. Stay away from him!” warns Phichit, then hangs up.

It's clear that Yuri is captivated by him, but he's never said anything about his feelings beyond that. Viktor wanders into the guest room, and looks at the posters Yuri has left behind. They all emphasize the attractive bodies of the male dancers. Except for one. Viktor notices a smaller photograph, depicting Rudolf Nureyev and his longtime lover Erik Bruhn. Nureyev is sitting on the floor with his arms wrapped around his knees, Bruhn is lounging on the floor next to him. They are both wearing old workout clothes. It's not a sexy shot, what comes through is the intimacy between the two men, the companionship. Why had Yuri put that picture up? Maybe Yuri yearns for that kind of relationship. He's not surprised Phichit had scolded him. However, Phichit said Yuri was not all right. Viktor feels he's missing something, and he re-listens to the message on his voicemail.  
“Oh,… I just wanted to say… take care, Viktor.”  
Something clicks in Viktor's brain. When had Yuri started calling him Viktor? For the Japanese, it was an intimate thing to do. Yuri must have feelings for him.

Yuri sits in his old bedroom in Yutopia. He slowly and carefully takes down each poster of Viktor, not looking at the images. Once he's finished, the room looks like he feels: bare and depressing, like all the colors have been sucked away. Unable to sleep, he binge watches a TV series. After a few days, he stares at his phone, wondering if he should turn it back on. He cowardly turned it off after recording the message for Viktor. He presses the button, and waits for the screen to turn on. 19 missed calls. 5 voice mails. One email. All from Viktor. The email seems easiest.

To: Yuri Katsuki  
From: Viktor Nikiforov

Dear Yuri,  
I came home today and you had disappeared. You didn't even say goodbye, though I now understand that having drinks with everyone was to say farewell. I didn't blackmail Yakov, I twisted his arm a little. In return, I've had to do public interviews, even show up at Lilia's parties when I don't usually do. Though I pressured him in the beginning, now he believes in you as a person and as a dancer. Yakov would like you to return. I want you back as well, we have much unfinished business. Please respond, if only to tell me you are all right.  
Viktor

Yuri takes a deep breath, disappointed. Viktor seems to be trying to fix Yuri's career, not wanting Yuri back in a relationship. Not surprising but… Viktor has a way of making him hope for something more. Yuri types a quick reply.

To: Viktor Nikiforov  
From: Katsuki Yuri 

Dear Viktor,  
I am fine. I no longer have the heart to dance, regardless of how Feltsman feels. Please finish the season without me… perform your best Agape.  
Yuri

To: Phichit Chulanont  
From: Yuri Katsuki

Dear Phichit,  
I find myself having to make decisions that I have to face by myself, entirely alone. I wonder if my life will always be devoid of love.

Yuri is shoveling snow outside of Yutopia, when he sees familiar white blonde head. Panicked, he continues to shovel, faster and faster. Viktor waits till he's done, then takes the shovel away.  
“I thought it would be easier if I just left,” explains Yuri.  
“Easier for you, you mean,” corrects Viktor.  
Yuri takes a deep breath, and clenches his fists.  
“I'm breaking all ties with you. Please return to Russia, and leave me alone,” Yuri says clearly, while staring at the ground.  
“Why? Things were going slow but, improving. I want you back,” replies Viktor.  
“You want me back, but you'll quickly tire of me. Don't pursue me because of your pride. The chase is over, it's time for you to move on. … I'm not interested in being another person you dumped, then I'll get depressed, not dance, and leave anyway…” explains Yuri.  
“So you've already written our future. It does sound bleak. You said human beings are creative and able to change… Or does that optimism and creativity not apply to me? Give me a few months to prove myself.”  
Yuri closes his eyes, and drops his head.  
“I can't do that,” insists Yuri.  
“Why not?” demands Viktor.  
“None of your business,” mutters Yuri.  
“You know, you always surprised me with your candor. So what's changed that you can't share?”  
Yuri says nothing, and Viktor watches his face, then heaves a sigh of relief.  
“Thank heavens! I was worried you didn't care for me. But it's the opposite, isn't it? If you trust your heart, everyone will think you're a fool for being with me. Or you can trust your head, and suffer here alone.” Viktor takes his hand, dragging him for a walk. Yuri pulls his hand back, but follows Viktor's lead. Viktor finds a deserted park, and unrolls his scarf for them to sit on the cold bench.

Viktor sees that Yuri is still looking at the ground, and the stiffness in his body shows he is on the defensive. Viktor is not sure if he can convince Yuri to come back. Words. All Viktor has is words.  
“I was devastated when I saw the empty apartment. I miss you. I miss the way you use the couch cushions to stretch your legs. I miss the way you leave your glasses off to keep your mornings fuzzy. I miss your ugly old pajamas. I miss the way you challenge me to be good, and harangue me for being bad. I miss the way you think too much, even during sex… and the way you blush. I miss your voice, your touch, the way you can't keep away from me… I have memorized the shape of your lips and the taste of your mouth. I miss you crowding my couch and your wonderful cooking.” Yuri hasn't moved, he is so rigid he seems like a statue. But a tear is forming at the corner of his eyes. Viktor looks at him and continues,  
“You have seeped into my heart, drop by drop. The more time I spend with you, the more I become ensnared in my own trap. Please come back.”  
Yuri wipes his eyes, and murmurs,  
“You're cruel. You're going to make me hope…”   
Viktor wraps his arms around Yuri.  
“Nothing feels right unless you're by my side.”  
Yuri leans his head on Viktor's chest. Yuri adds, his voice quavering,  
“I'll come back. I'll finish the season.”  
Viktor and Yuri walk back to Yutopia.


	18. Chapter 18: Denying the Absurd

Viktor sits on the plane, relieved that he convinced Yuri to return to St. Petersburg. But there's a knot in his stomach. This dark-haired man sitting next to him has become so precious to him, it's like having a huge hole in his armor. Viktor can no longer deny how desperately he wants Yuri to be with him.  
“Thank you for the present,” declares Viktor. Yuri turns away from the window, not understanding.  
“What present?” questions Yuri.  
“My birthday present. December 25th, today, is my birthday. You are my present.”  
Yuri is unsure how to react.  
“Happy birthday, Viktor,” eventually replies Yuri, returning to gazing out the window of the plane. Viktor grabs one of his hands, the leans into Yuri's shoulder, and takes a nap. 

They arrive in St. Petersburg, which seems colder, and darker compared to Hasetsu. Yuri wonders whether this cold dark winter will ever end. Once back at Viktor's apartment, Yuri puts his luggage in the guest bedroom. Viktor scowls. He picks Yuri up around the waist, and brings to his bedroom.  
“Viktor? What are you doing…”  
“I'm planning to kiss you, then undress you, then… give you so much pleasure you'll never want to leave,” says Viktor. Yuri yawns.  
“I'm too tired… maybe tomorrow,” murmurs Yuri. Yuri curls up on his chest, and is falling asleep.  
“This is not doing much for my self-esteem as a lover,” complains Viktor.  
“Viktor, I haven't slept in days.”  
Then Viktor grasps that Yuri has missed him so much that he suffered insomnia. Consoled, Viktor falls asleep as well.

The next morning, Viktor offers,  
“There's plenty of room in my bedroom for your stuff.”  
Yuri stops chewing for a moment, then shakes his head.  
“I need to maintain some boundaries. I'm staying in the guest bedroom.”  
“All right...but please sleep with me,” begs Viktor. Oh. Yuri is unable to resist Viktor being nice and vulnerable.

The next day, Yuri unpacks his bags, puts away his clothes in the dresser and the closet. Then he notices a new poster on the wall. A black and white photograph of Viktor Nikiforov wearing nude tights and nothing else. It's signed: Sweet dreams Yuri, Viktor. Yuri mutters to himself,  
“Egotistical jerk. Would I let you get away with this if you weren't so beautiful?” He traces the curves of Viktor's muscles on the paper.

The next morning, Viktor makes breakfast and his favorite tea. At the ballet studio, Viktor massages Yuri's shoulders. Viktor seems inordinately cheery, and during break, Viktor brings Yuri an apple, cut into slices and fanned out on a plate. Mila comes closer and comments,  
“You're getting the royal treatment, I guess Viktor is happy to have his boyfriend back.”  
Yuri spits out pieces of apple.  
“Boyfriend? I'm not…” begins Yuri, then stops in mid sentence.  
“You're not what? Living together? Sleeping together? And Viktor is so besotted, he can barely keep his hands off of you…” counters Mila. Yuri shakes his head, that's impossible. Viktor probably acts this way with all his lovers.

Most evenings, Viktor seduces Yuri into bed. Yuri always seems reluctant, then overcome with passion. With time, Yuri seems comfortable with sexual activity. Viktor feels addicted to Yuri's moans and groans, and the tenderness infused in their lovemaking. Afterwards, Viktor luxuriates in their limbs entwined,  
“Why am I always pursuing you? Why do you never pursue me?” quizzes Viktor.  
“I'm trying to keep a border, a wall between us. I can't do it when we're… intimate,” confesses Yuri.  
“I've noticed. You seem guarded. It makes me want to have sex more often, so I can discover what you're hiding. I can see all your emotions when your in bed with me, your fear, your anger,…”  
“Anything else?” asks Yuri, obviously wondering how much Viktor knows.  
“Yes, of course.”  
“Are you going to tell me?” continues Yuri, somewhat nervous. Viktor sees the reluctance, and shakes his head.  
“No. Hopefully one day you'll be comfortable telling me…”

Yuri hunts down the café that Egor often frequents. Egor is sitting in the corner, drinking a coffee.  
“Mind if I sit down?” asks Yuri. Egor frowns but nods anyway. “Would you mind telling me… How is Viktor in a relationship? Romantic?”  
Egor grimaces in disgust.  
“Famously the opposite. He's blunt, direct, and likes a good fuck. All done with aristocratic elegance and grace. But I haven't heard from him in a while, rumor has it he has a ballet boy at hand. I guess he prefers convenience to my rugged good looks.”

A few nights later, Viktor comes out of the shower, happy to see Yuri chopping vegetables for dinner.  
“Viktor, what's the difference between dating and… being a boyfriend?” inquires Yuri, without looking up.  
“Dating is more casual. A boyfriend has expectations of spending birthdays and holidays together, being there when needed, public displays of affection, expectations of monogamy. Why?” questions Viktor with a grin, wondering if Yuri is asking him to be his boyfriend.  
“Someone referred to me as your boyfriend, and I quickly corrected them. I was just curious.”  
Viktor waits for more, disappointed at the end of the conversation. Since moving back in, Yuri has been distant. On performance nights, he always sleeps in his own room. And the flow of questioning has stopped. Viktor has a bad feeling about the change.

The next morning,Yuri is overjoyed to encounter Vasily hopping around on crutches inside the Mariinsky.  
“What do the doctors say?” questions Yuri, concerned. Vasily waves his arm, and reassures,  
“I make a full recovery soon, as long as I don't re-injure myself.”  
“Then what are you doing here? Go home and rest!” scolds Yuri.  
“I'm bored. I want to dance. At least here, I feel a part of the action. How is dating Nikiforov?” asks Vasily.  
“What makes you think we're dating?” replies Yuri evasively.  
“The tension between you two is gone, and Viktor looks at me fondly when I talk to you,” jokes Vasily, catching an icy stare from Nikiforov.   
“Vasily, how do you know if a relationship is going well?”  
“There must be talking, there must be fun, and there must be sex. If something missing, there is a problem with relationship.”

Lately, there was no talking and no fun, just lots of sex. That evening, Viktor makes a move to engage in more sexual activity, but Yuri brushes him off.  
“You've been standoffish ever since you talked to Vasily today. Should I be jealous?” demands Viktor.  
“I'm not thinking about him, and thinking about what he said. We talked a lot when you were trying to get me into bed. Now you have no interest in my conversation.”  
“Such an overactive brain you have…if all I wanted was a sexy body, there are legions of boys willing to do my bidding. I like that you have a strong personality, and that you ponder various questions. What's on your mind?”  
“I want to know more about you, I want you to be more… vulnerable. And yet... I've been more and more closed off, it's rather hypocritical of me to ask.”  
Viktor considers the request.  
“Would you have dinner with my parents? In a few days is Christmas eve, they always have a big dinner to celebrate.”  
“Christmas is January 7th? Why does Russia celebrate on a different day?”  
“Something to do with the Gregorian calendar.”  
Yuri wonders what this has to do with vulnerability, but he nods anyways.

A few days later, Yuri and Viktor are leaving the theater, only to be intercepted by a red haired lady.  
“Mister Katsuki?” she inquires.  
“Good evening, Tamara. I'm sorry I don't remember your last name. This is Viktor Nikiforov,” Yuri introduces.  
“Mister Katsuki, I have an odd request. Would you come to my apartment?” She turns towards Nikiforov. “You are welcome to accompany your friend.”  
They walk for a while, take the subway, and end up at a tiny apartment, shabby but well kept.  
“I will make tea,” declares Tamara, disappearing into the tiny kitchen. Viktor looks around, then counsels Yuri,  
“Please be sure to accept the tea. It is the lubricant of the soul.”  
Tamara fusses with the teacups, pours the tea, then settles in a chair.  
“Are you familiar with Rudolf Nureyev?” she asks.  
“Yes of course. He was a very famous dancer,” politely replies Yuri.  
“Do you know much about him?” she continues.  
“No, not really. I've read a few things online, that's all,” apologizes Yuri.  
“I have collected many photos, much information about him. He was my special friend. There on the wall is a photo of him in his apartment in Paris. I wish I could have visited there.”

Yuri looks at the photograph, surprised by all the male nudes in the background.  
“He seems to have appreciated the naked form,” comments Yuri.  
“Ah, the freedom of Paris. He wouldn't have dared to do that here, in Leningrad.”  
“How do I know you?” inquires Yuri. “We must have met at a ballet performance…”  
“You don't know me. I rarely go out anymore. But it was a special day, so I was visiting the Mariinsky. I was surprised when you called me Tamara Varvara. Rudik used to call me that when we were alone. I don't know why, my middle name is Natalia.”

Viktor looks around with amazement. He'd always been fascinated with the Russian dancer who had famously defected to Paris from the Soviet Union in the sixties. Viktor exclaims,  
“Your collection of images of young Nureyev is amazing! The chemistry between him and Margot Fontaine comes across even in an old black and white photo. Where they lovers?”  
Tamara smiles.  
“I doubt it. My dear Rudik loved men, this handsome young man was his first male lover,” says Tamara, pointing to a head shot of a handsome dark-haired man leaning on his arms.  
“Teja,” identifies Viktor.  
“Teja Kremke, “ Tamara agrees. “He was a German dancer and he played the piano.”  
“He reminds me of Vasily,” remarks Yuri. Viktor frowns, not seeing the resemblance.  
“And this?” she asks, pointing to a photograph of an older chiseled face.  
“Erik Bruhn,” Yuri mumbles, suddenly uncomfortable. Viktor notices the change, and recognizes the man from a photograph in Yuri's room.  
“Tell me more about Bruhn,” immediately inquires Viktor. Tamara looks at the ceiling, gathering her thoughts.  
“It's difficult to express. Rudik loved him passionately, intellectually, and admired his dancing. They were together for about 7 years, till differences in age, personality and careers drew them apart. But Rudik never stopped loving him… They used to write passionate love letters to each other, and they had promised to burn them. But a few of Bruhn's letters were found amongst Rudik's possessions after he died.”

Yuri and Viktor finally extricate themselves from the strange woman's apartment.  
“Yuri, why were you bothered by the photograph of Erik Bruhn?”  
Yuri shrugs.   
“I'm not sure. I have an emotional reaction, a feeling of loss, when I see his face.”  
They take the subway, and arrive at the apartment.  
“Should I dress fancy for Christmas' Eve at your parents tonight?” quizzes Yuri. Viktor nods, checks his watch, then dials,  
“Konnichi wa! It's Viktor. Hiroko-san, Merry Christmas! I know… I was just explaining to Yuri that we celebrate differently in Russia.… That's fine, I'll let you go. Sayonara,” says Viktor. Yuri is taken aback that Viktor is talking to his mother, but then motions for the phone. “Mother? Do you remember that bad day when I was 4?… Yes. Today? I see.… Thank you, we'll talk soon.”

Once back at the apartment, Yuri sits down at his computer, checking some dates.  
“When were you born?” asks Yuri.  
“I was born December 25th, 1986. And you?” replies Viktor.  
“November 28th, 1989.”  
“So I'm only a few years older than you. Good,” affirms Viktor.  
“Erik Bruhn died April 1st, 1986. Almost 9 months before… if you believe in reincarnation, you could be Erik Bruhn. That's surprising, I would think you would be Nureyev. You both are ballet stars with amazing magnetism. Let me check Nureyev's dates.”  
“That's a strange thought… Yuri? What's wrong?” questions Viktor, seeing Yuri turn extremely pale.  
“Rudolf Nureyev died January 6th, 1993. The same day I did.”  
Yuri collapses on the ground, the whole world fading in darkness. He wakes up back on the couch.  
“I canceled the dinner with my parents. Do you want to go to hospital?” questions Viktor, worried. Yuri shakes his head.  
“I would rather not…” pleads Yuri. Viktor looks unconvinced.  
“Yuri… you told me you died… actually, you said something similar when you were drunk…” remembers Viktor.  
“I've never told anyone what happened. I was four. It was unusually warm for January. I had decided I needed to go see the ocean, so I slipped out of my bed and ran to the beach. It was cold, but without any snow. The waves were calling to me, not literally but…anyway, I jumped in. A wave dragged me under. Everything was cold and dark, but my lungs were burning. Next, I could see myself in a hospital room. I was watching from above, and I could see my body on the table below. I heard the doctor announce my death. Then I felt a whirlwind, like a spirit came into me, and my breath came back into my body. I woke up on the table. The doctor seemed confused.”  
Viktor regards him with a blank face. Yuri regrets telling his death story.

Yuri feels very unsettled by the weird episode. Should he see a psychiatrist? Perhaps he's in the early stages of a psychotic break. He searches for a phone number for a doctor on his phone, but hesitates before dialing. Then he turns off his phone, and goes looking for someone in the lunch room.  
“Do you believe in… past lives?” Yuri tentatively asks Gullnaz. She seems to look through him.  
“Yes,” she replies.  
“Is it possible to remember? I've had strange episodes, like memories,” explains Yuri.  
“People usually experience traces from their previous lives. Unexplained phobias, odd likes or dislikes. A few people have a talent for music, or languages. Your memories are disturbing you?”  
“Yes, I'm worried about my mental health.”  
“Are you able to work? Can you tell reality from visionary? Brilliant artists are often unstable. If you decide to take medication, the disturbing part may disappear, but the creative part also.” Gullnaz stands up to leave. “Why are you remembering? Perhaps the past is trying to tell you something.”

Yuri notices Viktor is acting distant ever since the episode. Back at the apartment, Yuri decides to confront Viktor.  
“You're uncomfortable around me ever since I told you about my near-death experience. Do you think I'm crazy?” questions Yuri. Viktor sits down on the couch next to him, and takes Yuri's hand.  
“No, you're not crazy. I've been perturbed… by what happened, I feel I've lost control of my life. Ever since meeting you, I've done some odd things. And my behavior is… different. There's much I don't understand about the world. Although your experience may be imaginary, it's of great emotional importance. If it's a coincidence, the timing is amazing. I hope we aren't reborn, because I have often chosen the way of sin.”


	19. Chapter 19: Mariinsky on Tour

Yakov Feltsman assembles all the dancers, and announces,  
“The old Mariinsky will be closing for some repairs. Most of the dancers who have been performing there will be touring the United States. Please check the board to see if you've been assigned to travel.”  
Viktor sees Yuri talk to Yakov. Once Yuri is gone, Viktor walks into Yakov's meeting with another dancer.  
“I have a little girl at home, I don't want to go on tour…” argues a ballerina.  
“Liuba is pregnant, and Paulina cannot handle the solo,” counters Yakov.  
“What did he want?” interrupts Viktor.  
“Vitya, how does that concern you?” counters Yakov, then replies reluctantly,“He asked if New York was on the tour. And Vitya… we need to discuss your travel arrangements.”

The old Mariinsky dancers fly to San Francisco. Two buses will be driving the dancers, the director, and the technical people from city to city. Another bus carries their sets and costumes. Viktor looks at the mode of transportation with disdain. Vasily chuckles.  
“What's so funny?” whispers Yuri.  
“Nikiforov. Usually he close by plane, but he doesn't want to leave you on the bus alone with me. He's going to be in a bad mood after hours of travel,” explains Vasily with glee. Viktor enters the first bus, and commandeers the four seats in the back for himself. 

The buses drive them to a hotel. Yuri talks to the front desk receptionist, and learns he has no reserved room. Grumbling, he calls Viktor.  
“Did you make my reservation disappear again?” demands Yuri.  
“Again? No. I told Yakov you'd be staying with me,” explains Viktor. Of course. Once again, Yuri feels manipulated. He finds out what room Vasily is in, and knocks.  
“May I stay with you?” requests Yuri, hopefully.  
“Of course,” replies Vasily. “So what's your plan?” questions Vasily. Yuri simply frowns. “With Nikiforov… Are you punishing him? Training him? Leaving him?”  
“Oh… I'm not sure. Is he trainable? Aside from his diva attitude, he's usually pretty nice. That sounds like I'm trying to justify my actions…”  
“I don't think so. You're quiet, but you know your own mind. I'm the one being mean by enjoying his jealousy,” laughs Vasily. Vasily helps Yuri with his coat, and reaches over and kisses him. Yuri looks at him in dismay.  
“I'm just here to sleep,” corrects Yuri.  
“We can sleep a little bit…,” replies Vasily mischievously. Yuri realizes his mistake. He doesn't want to mislead Vasily. He grabs his coat and suitcase, and leaves quickly. He gets more information from the front desk, then knocks on another door.  
“Yuri! How may I help you?” asks Mila.  
“I need a place to sleep. Just sleep. One night?” requests Yuri.   
“All right, but don't blame me when rumor has it we're having a ménage a trois…” replies Mila with a naughty look.

The first rehearsal is poor, everyone jet lagged, and dealing with a new theater. They are performing at a college auditorium in Berkeley, 20 minutes outside of San Francisco. Yuri watches Viktor being irritable towards everyone.  
“Mila! Is he always like this on tour?” questions Yuri.  
“He found out that only local ballet companies are allowed to perform at the opera house in San Francisco, hence this small college auditorium. Also… you slept with me…” she whispers.  
Yuri shakes his head, regretting giving Mila another topic of gossip. He decides to fix the hotel situation, only to have Feltsman drags him to a private corner.  
“Are you dumping Viktor? Why did you come back to the Mariinsky to do that again? Being on tour is difficult enough without having a heartbroken principal dancer!” rants Feltsman.  
“What? Viktor is upset at not getting his way, he isn't in love with me,” argues Yuri. Feltsman looks at him like he's going to strangle him, and growls,  
“I've known him for a very long time. He's in love with you, and he believes you are his boyfriend.”

Yuri feels a sense of shock, but rumors at the company are commonplace. Still, Yuri can't help but ask Mila,  
“Do you think… that maybe, Viktor… might have… some feelings for me?”   
“He has all sorts of feelings for you. Annoyed, frustrated,… what are you blabbering about?” asks Mila.  
“Never mind.”

That evening, Viktor pleads,  
“Come to my room for just a moment.”  
Viktor's room is a suite, with a small sofa and a table.  
“What do you want?” reluctantly asks Yuri.  
“I want to have dinner with you,” replies Viktor, unveiling a full sushi dinner, with miso soup and steamed rice.  
“This is like training a dog,” murmurs Yuri to himself. “What did you do wrong?” he says loudly.  
“I assumed you wanted to be with me as much as I wanted to be with you,” replies Viktor. Yuri knows Feltsman is wrong, there is no talk of love.  
“You didn't ask!” corrects Yuri, wanting to leave, but already salivating. “You're the master of temptation.”  
Viktor smiles watching Yuri devours several choice pieces of salmon.  
“Why did you say I made your reservation disappear again?” questions Viktor.  
“I was told that in Moscow you bribed the front desk to lose my reservation, and arranged to have Plisetsky's apartment flooded.”  
Viktor shakes his head, frowning.  
“I didn't do either of those things. Gorgi lived in that apartment for years, there were continuous problems with the plumbing. Plisetsky had only been there about a month, he was being bullied at the Vaganova Academy dormitory. Why would I force you to my hotel room? We were living together, it's not like I lacked opportunity to be with you. Who told you this?”  
“Plisetsky. Though now that I think about it, Christophe was always whispering to others.”

The buses drive to the south of California, the weather becoming warm and sunny. Viktor coaxes Yuri into sitting in the back with him.  
“I've been thinking about your idea about us being Erik Bruhn and Rudolf Nureyev,” says Viktor.  
“What about it?” inquires Yuri, somewhat uncomfortable with the topic.  
“It makes sense. Nureyev loved Russia, but the Soviet government basically pushed him into defecting. He would've chosen to be reborn outside of Russia. Yet Bruhn was in love with a Russian, he might've felt drawn to the country of his lover's birth.”  
Yuri shakes his head, and retorts,  
“It's ridiculous! I was just overcome with emotion... There's no way I'm Nureyev, what happened to my spirit at birth? Was I someone else for the first 3 years of my life? And what about you is Danish?”   
“The interior design of my apartment? I've never been very fond of Kierkegaard, much too Christian… I'm an atheist at heart,” replies Viktor, surprised at how vehemently against the idea Yuri appears to be.

They perform in Costa Mesa and Los Angeles. After a few weeks, they are driven through Arizona, stopping in Tucson. Mila begins to limp, and she disappears for the day.  
“Will she dance tomorrow night?” Viktor asks Yakov.  
“No. Zlata shall dance as Medora, she's her understudy,” replies Yakov.  
“I want Yulia to dance it,” demands Viktor.  
“Vitya, I put up with a lot of your capriciousness, but even if Yulia knows the part, you're not a good match.”  
“Just for this town, try my casting idea…”

Yakov Feltsman calls for a rehearsal at the performance hall.  
“For the next three nights, Viktor will be performing as Ali, Katsuki and Yulia will be performing as Conrad and Medora.”  
Most of the dancers look upset by this casting change, muttering amongst themselves. Yuri hears Zlata say loudly,  
“It pays off to sleep with the both principal dancers.”  
Yuri goes up to Viktor,  
“Are you trying to get me killed? I don't deserve to be given the lead,” hisses Yuri.  
“They will only tear you to shreds if you perform badly. If you do well, they will grudgingly accept you,” Viktor replies cheerfully.

As he stands in the wings, Yuri can't believe he's about to star in a lead role with the Mariinsky, even if it's only a college theater in a dusty desert town. Rehearsal had gone satisfactorily, but not great. Yulia takes him aside.  
“Make love to me on stage, like in the Eros pas de deux. Promise me!” she pleads. Wearing his jaunty pirate outfit, Yuri strokes her cheek and smiles.  
“Whatever you desire, my dear,” he replies, making his voice deeper.

For a moment, in the spotlight, he is transformed into a debonair seductor. Yulia seems to glitter and shine, capitalizing on her quickness and daintiness. Then Viktor comes out, wearing blue harem pants, and the headband with the plume. He dances the Ali variation with so much magnetism, Yuri can barely remember his next move. Usually, the variation ends at the corner of the stage, but Viktor throws himself at Yuri's feet, looking at his master in adoration. Somehow, Viktor's performance energizes Yuri further, till at the end of the ballet, they are both heaving from exhaustion. Yulia manages to keep up, but it is Viktor's and Yuri's performance that causes curtain call after curtain call.

After the performance, Yuri quickly showers and changes. Unsettled, he heads to the roof of the hotel. It's a little chilly, but nothing compared to the cold of St. Petersburg. Viktor shows up sometime later.  
“You're not answering your phone,” remarks Viktor. “I've searched everywhere for you.”  
“I turned it off,” answers Yuri, keeping his eyes on the glittering cityscape.  
“Do you want to talk about it?”  
“During the Ali variation, I saw how you feel… well, everyone saw, except the blind.”  
“It was obvious for some time. But it doesn't make you happy…” clarifies Viktor. Yuri shrugs, not looking at Viktor.  
“I haven't… I'm not sure... I believe it yet,” replies Yuri.  
“Why not?”  
“Once I accept how you feel, I will have to acknowledge how I feel.”  
“I see. How do you feel?” probes Viktor.  
“You haven't verbalized your feelings,” counters Yuri.  
Viktor frowns, trying to remember exactly what he's said. Then he replies,  
“I guess not. You're so skittish, I always feel like I'm moving too fast. I had feelings for you in Venice, but I ignored them. Then I methodically pursued you, while trying to resist. Once I realized how I felt, I dreaded telling you … I didn't want to scare you away. I've never felt like this about anyone… That's what I meant when I said I give you my heart. But if you want me to be more verbally amorous, I'm quite ready to shower you with epithets and endearments.” Viktor takes a deep breath. “I've fallen in love with you.”  
Yuri looks at him nodding, the words still not sinking in.  
“You don't believe in love, and why did you choose me?” asks Yuri.  
“Choose you? It always felt like a compulsion, not a choice. And it's uncomfortable, you make me feel unworthy. I've tried to stay away from you, and foist you on that simpleton Vasily. But I finally gave up, and tried to meet your expectations, only to have you leave me. I had to decide: were you better off without me? Maybe. But I'm too selfish to leave you alone. And ...not many people will truly understand you. And ...I suspect you love me so deeply, you'd be alone for the rest of your life.”  
Yuri feels all his composure crumble away. He sobs,  
“Do you actually understand me?! I'm so crazy about you, it's… ridiculous! I'm obsessed, enchanted, I lust after you, I yearn for you, ...you were right when you called me a crazed fan! I look forward to talking with you, I'm always intrigued as to what you're going to say... When we met in person, it was electrical! Never before have I wanted to… just fuck somebody on sight! I've been working so hard to preserve my own sense of self and not become your little lapdog. Every time you touched me, I pretended you cared. You're thoughtless and cruel but… you've been patient, kind, and you see into my soul. It's torture. It was so hard to leave you! But I had to quit the Mariinsky since I hadn't earned my position… I gave you my heart months ago, even though it was hopeless! I'm afraid, once you recognize how desperately I love you, you'll be appalled… I love you too much… ” confesses Yuri, trembling. Viktor pulls Yuri into his arms.  
“Shush, my love, I'm an idiot! I am so thankful that my horrible games and asinine manipulative  
behavior haven't pushed you away,” replies Viktor, relieved. He enlaces his hand with Yuri's.  
“What I felt for other people was like a small heartwarming rush. This is like a uncontrollable force of nature,” adds Yuri.  
“That's fine,” murmurs Viktor. “I can take it.”

Yuri pushes Viktor onto the bed, kissing him with gusto. Viktor is surprised, but pleased by his forcefulness. Yuri undresses Viktor, his eyes wide like he's never seen Viktor before.  
“You're gorgeous!” exclaims Yuri.  
“Yuri, we've been intimate for months… Why the surprise?” quizzes Viktor.  
“You haven't noticed? I haven't been wearing my glasses, I'm wearing contacts… I've never seen you clearly naked before…” admits Yuri. He explores Viktor's body, touching, stroking, appearing to enjoy the taste of him.  
“Can I enter you?”  
“Take me, I'm yours,” simply declares Viktor.  
Viktor revels in every touch, delighting in Yuri's uninhibited exploration. Yuri wants him, Yuri needs him, Yuri loves him.   
“Take me from behind like an animal, I want to feel you thrusting in me, driving us both wild,”  
Yuri presses his penis in slowly, nipping at Viktor's neck and shoulders.   
“Your skin is so soft, and your muscles so firm, I want to touch you all day. For years, I dreamt about you, just another hopeless fan. I never imagined being in a relationship with you...” wonders Yuri.  
“Move Yuri… Please…”  
Yuri picks a very slow rhythm, then quicker, finally thrusting vigorously.  
Viktor turns over, with his head into the pillow.  
“Are you crying? I'm sorry if I hurt you, I, uh,…” quickly apologizes Yuri. Viktor rolls over, and gives Yuri a quick kiss.  
“I'm overwhelmed with happiness!” announces Viktor.  
“Because I was … more dominant during sex?” says Yuri dubiously.  
“Because you really wanted me, I desperately needed that reassurance.”


	20. Chapter 20: The Calm after the Storm

After a few days in Tucson, they pack up and head to the bus. Yuri makes a point of helping Mila with her luggage.  
“What did the doctor say? I hope you'll be better soon…” Yuri wishes earnestly. Mila laughs. She whispers in his ear,  
“I'm fine. Even Zlata noticed I've been limping with different legs…”  
Yuri looks at her astonished, then upset.  
“Did Viktor put you up to this? He'll be sleeping alone for at least a week,” mutters Yuri.  
“On the contrary. I met a surfer in LA and we're having a fling... I did tell Viktor you were wondering how he felt…”

With their feelings out in the open, Yuri decides to give up any pretense in front of the Mariinsky people. Yuri's triumph in Tucson makes his favorite status more bearable. He sits in the back with Viktor, at first simply leaning into each other. As the days go on, they go from fleeting touches, to holding hands, to cuddling in each other's laps. He stares out the window, surprised at the distances and the unfamiliar dry rocky vistas. The bus seems to drive for hours and hours with few signs of human habitation. They nap, watch ballet performances on a laptop, and chat. The back of the bus becomes their own intimate bubble, giving them precious time together.

“They are so quiet and sweet with each other, it's hard to believe how tumultuous it is when they're apart,” comments Mila to Yakov.  
“I never thought I'd see Vitya happy in a relationship… my little boy is growing up,” replies Yakov.

Viktor checks a road map on his phone, their next stop, Houston, is many hours away.  
“What are you watching now?” Viktor questions Yuri.  
“I'm streaming Matthew Bourne's version of Swan Lake. It's not the kind of ballet the Mariinsky would stage, especially the male swans. You would make a magnificent Swan,” remarks Yuri.  
“Mmm, I would like to dance your swan, if you were my prince.”   
“It's the only openly homosexual ballet I know of…”  
“Nijinsky wrote a ballet called Jeux, or games. It was homoerotic with three boys tussling, but Diaghilev insisted it be danced with one boy and two girls. It wasn't easy being homosexual, even in the artistic world. Some blame Nijinsky's mental illness on his relationship with Diaghilev. And Tchaikovsky said because he was a pederast, he avoided people and treated them with suspicion.”

Texas is huge, the time on the bus seems interminable. Yuri is looking forward to seeing the ocean in Miami.  
“Viktor… tell me about the principal dancer from the Mariinsky you fell in love with…” asks Yuri gingerly. Viktor raises an eyebrow, then shrugs.  
“Sasha made me feel like the most important person in the world. Looking back, I understand he never made any promises, or any commitments. But I rarely let myself fall in love, and when I do, I get rather intense… I probably would've jettisoned my career, and followed him around the world…he didn't want a young puppy trailing after him, so he kicked me.”  
“Kicked you?”  
“Metaphorically speaking, he told me he never had any feelings for me,” explains Viktor.  
“Oh, like you tried to do for me. You told me all your worst traits in a theatrical moment, as if I didn't know…” recalls Yuri. Viktor looks unconvinced.  
“You knew I was checking your emails?” asks Viktor dubiously.  
“After receiving the first email from Christophe, I regularly checked my email access history. I usually read my emails after dinner, but someone was checking my account while I showered – probably not me,” explains Yuri.  
“Why didn't you get angry and accuse me?”  
“Because I'm an idiot! I hoped it meant you had feelings for me. Like that photograph of me on your phone…”  
“Ah yes. I was acting lovesick before I knew I was falling for you…” remembers Viktor. “How romantic!”  
“You were behaving like a stalker, that's not romantic,” lectures Yuri, poking Viktor in the chest. Viktor picks up the finger, and brings it to his lips, till Yuri snatches it away.  
“I'm not letting you seduce your way out of this conversation.”

As the bus slowly heads North towards Washington, Yuri feels bad for Vasily, always sitting by himself at the front of the bus. Viktor ignores Vasily, or treats him coldly, while Yuri always says hello.  
“Viktor, why are you so jealous of Vasily? I don't flirt with him,” questions Yuri.  
“Most people show their interests by touching, smiling – what you consider flirting. You show your interest by letting people into your bubble. I've only seen two other men besides me be allowed in… Phichit and Vasily. You and Phichit are not sexually interested in each other so… not as much jealousy.”  
Yuri ponders whether to continue, then confesses,  
“The thing is… I didn't feel comfortable being physical with him. So maybe the attraction was only visual…”  
Viktor looks a bit grumpy at this line of conversation.  
“The attraction wasn't just visual! The reason it didn't work is you're physically monogamous,” Viktor informs him.  
“What does that mean?” replies Yuri, confused.  
“You're not comfortable touching more than one guy at a time. In order to be with Vasily, you needed to move out of my apartment, and not have any contact with me. In other words, because you were touching and hugging me, you felt like you were cheating with someone else. And for you, cheating is not a turn on.”  
“And you knew this! You pushed me away, but never completely… Obviously, you're not physically monogamous, since you went and fucked Leroy,” reflects Yuri. “And Egor, and…”  
“That's enough. I'm capable of being faithful, but I need sex. I needed more than hand holding from you, but you weren't ready. And JJ was about anger, you thought the worst of me, so I behaved badly. Although honestly, JJ wanted out from his marriage, and his wife didn't want to be divorced for a younger woman. Now please change the subject.”  
“Okay. I like that you're smart,” Yuri says appeasingly. Viktor looks displeased at being pandered to.  
“Me too. I'm pretty sure that's the only reason I won you,” Viktor points out grumpily.  
“I don't think so. I chose you because I can see you,” disagrees Yuri.  
“See me? You never wore your glasses around Vasily?”  
“I couldn't grasp his personality. With you, I can see when your behaving badly or from the heart, even when others can't see it. I thought I was being fanciful at first, but it kept checking out. For example, I knew you were pursuing me for a bet,” explains Yuri.  
“You did not! You were grasping at straws when you said that, which is why you were so mad when you found out,” counters Viktor.  
“I was mad because I was falling in love with you, and that was a stupid, stupid thing to do. And since I knew what you were up to, I couldn't even excuse my feelings.”  
Viktor gazes at him, obviously wanting to kiss.  
“If you could really see me, you'd have known how deeply I love you,” murmurs Viktor. Yuri shrugs,  
“I kept pretending you loved me. I was so afraid to check, I didn't notice you really did…”  
“I even love your torturous way of thinking…” adds Viktor, pulling Yuri closer into his lap.

In Washington DC, they perform well. Afterwards, the dancers are invited to a fundraiser gala in their honor. Yuri's thankful to have the Venice tuxedo, as all the guests are dressed in expensive formal wear. He feels a little lost amongst all these important, rich, and famous people. Viktor is behaving impeccably. He smiles and makes witty comments, complimenting the women and flattering the men. Viktor returns often to Yuri's side, inquiring how he's doing, and feeding him hors d'oeuvres. Yuri chats with an older woman who appears bored. As soon as he can, Yuri slips into a deserted corridor, sits on the floor, feeling despondent. He tries to contact Phichit by phone, but only gets a cheery recording. Yuri leaves a message:  
“Phichit! I was really hoping you could talk to me, but it's not an emergency, honestly, uh,… never mind,” says Yuri after the beep, wincing at the message. Yuri scrolls through his social media, when he hears Viktor's voice,  
“What problem can you talk to Phichit about, but not me?”  
Yuri quickly stands up, and dusts off his behind.  
“I prefer to expose my personal failings to my friend, and delay you learning my flaws. Isn't your love based on an idealistic image of me?” says Yuri, uncharacteristically cynical.  
“No. So talk…” replies Viktor, looking stern. Yuri paces back and forth. He throws his arms up in the air,  
“Everything is going well! My career is going well, I'm dating Viktor fucking Nikiforov, and it's going well! And did you see that party… I was introduced to Roberto Bolle, the tall dark handsome ballet dancer from Italy? That was amazing too…” rants Yuri.  
“So what's the problem?” reiterates Viktor.  
“The problem is ... there is no problem! I'm not comfortable with success. When everything is going well, it makes me …uncomfortable,” explains Yuri.  
“Yuri, you worry too much. You care too much what other people think. You lack self-confidence, and your sense of fashion … needs work,” observes Viktor. Yuri complains,  
“Is this supposed to cheer me up?”  
“I'm showing you I'm quite aware of your flaws. And as for problems, I'm quite fed up with you rhapsodizing on and on about other ballet dancers. Michele Crispino, Chris Rodgers-Wilson, and now, Roberto Bolle...You've never said one word about me!” exclaims Viktor. Yuri shakes his head.  
“You're the best ballet dancer in the world! Why would you need an ego boost?”  
“I want to know what my boyfriend thinks of my dancing,” insists Viktor. Yuri crosses his arms, leans back against the wall, and replies,  
“You have perfect lines, aristocratic grace, great height and precision in your leaps, a pale otherworldly beauty, and an indescribable aura which makes me want to watch you dance again and again. Okay?”  
Yuri glances over at Viktor, who is covering his face with his hand. “Viktor?”  
Viktor seems to be struggling to keep his composure. Eventually, he says,  
“Thank you. That means more than I can… say. And at a risk of upsetting you, you're the one for me. This is a long-term relationship, you won't get rid of me easily,” declares Viktor, taking Yuri's hand, and leading him back to the party. Yuri feels giddy upon hearing Viktor's declaration. He pulls back.  
“Viktor, let's stay here and dance,” pleads Yuri. Viktor shakes his head.  
“I'll have them play a waltz, and we're dancing in front of everyone!”  
Yuri feels a slight burn to his cheeks, as Viktor spins him around in a fast waltz. Viktor's arms, Viktor's smile, Viktor's eyes twinkling so bright… Being drunk on Viktor is better than being drunk on wine.

Yuri checks the map, they are dancing next in Cleveland. He's excited because it's the last stop before New York City.  
“Why did you say pursuing me was a compulsion?” questions Yuri. Viktor picks up Yuri's hand, and strokes his fingers while thinking.  
“Last year the Mariinsky did a tour of Europe. Mostly major cities like London, Paris, Amsterdam etc. I asked Yakov to add New York to the list. I had a ridiculous reason, and Yakov refused. I finally convinced him to let just Mila and I fly to New York and do a joint performance with ABT. There I saw you, but you avoided me. So I found out your name, and found your parents' inn in Hasetsu. I made a reservation for two weeks, and I knew you would be there. But that makes no sense. I had just seen you in New York, why didn't I just stay in New York? I arrived in Hasetsu and your mother said you hadn't been home in 5 years. I felt like an idiot. But then you showed up…” recalls Viktor, not comprehending. Viktor kisses Yuri's hand. “I was searching for you.”  
“Searching for me?” repeats Yuri.  
“When I choreographed Stay Close to Me, it was a message. I was looking for someone else, but I found you.”  
“That's hard to believe. You were searching for a one night stand, nothing more,” argues Yuri.  
“I wanted more but… I couldn't admit it.”  
Yuri looks at him dubiously.  
“I don't know what to believe anymore. I had this fantasy you were my special friend. But I bet all your fans would feel that way…” Yuri stops, frowning.  
“You remember something,” prompts Viktor.  
“I used to have this dream about you… We were both in your kitchen, preparing a meal, maybe lunch?... Anyways, it's just the two of us, doing dishes and chopping vegetables. But there is a… connection, a familiarity, like we've been living together for years. Then one day I saw an article about you, you're sitting on the couch with Makkachin in your new apartment. Behind you is the kitchen… When I first came to live with you in St. Petersburg, I couldn't believe I was actually in that kitchen.”  
“I thought you were excited by the pots and pans,” remembers Viktor.  
Yuri looks sheepish.  
“That too, copper cookware is the best!” enthuses Yuri.

As spring begins to thaw the North East of the United States, the tour heads northward and ends in New York City. Mila watches Vasily stooped in his seat in the front of the bus, apparently trying to stay away from the happy couple in the back, and frowning at a small paperback.  
“My dear friend, it might be time to give up hope,” Mila gently says. Vasily shakes his head, showing a stubborn look.  
“Yuri will leave him, he is not good enough. This gives me time to read the books Yuri finds important,” says Vasily, showing her a copy of Being and Nothingness. Mila glances over at Viktor and Yuri sleeping on each other's shoulder.  
“This has nothing to do with how good a person you are. Those two are soulmates. Even apart, they will yearn for each other. Katsuki cannot love you the way you want.”

The weary dancers get off the bus, stretching their limbs. Yuri hurries and goes straight to the front desk of the hotel.  
“Could you please check to make sure the hotel room for Viktor Nikiforov is in a corner, away from the other rooms, and has a view…”  
The young woman nods professionally. Mila rolls her eyes.  
“You sound like Viktor's personal assistant, don't let him pull his diva act,” she grumbles, stretching her back. Viktor comes up behind her.  
“Actually, Yuri doesn't let me get away with much. This is one of the few pamperings I get from him… And he's difficult too…” shares Viktor.  
“I am?” asks Yuri, surprised. Viktor imitates Yuri's hesitant voice,  
“Viktor… would it be okay if I slept next to the window? Viktor, may I have your salad? They put too much dressing on mine… Viktor, I'm having trouble sleeping, would you…”  
Yuri puts his hand over his mouth.  
“That's enough. I don't need Mila sharing our personal details of everyone,” chastises Yuri sternly.

At ABT, the Mariinsky dancers are given a studio to take class, and prepare for their performance at the Met. Yuri is already warming up at the barre, when he notices Viktor in the hallway talking to a blonde Adonis type. The Adonis is obviously flirting, and Viktor is smiling back. Yuri walks over, loops his arm through Viktor's, and declares,  
“You need my permission to get into Viktor's pants.”  
The blonde guy nods his head, reflecting.  
“Okay. Call me if you want a threesome,” he says cheerfully, and walks off. Yuri makes a small growling noise. Viktor watches the behavior, surprised.  
“I didn't know you were the jealous type,” remarks Viktor, with a half smile.  
“Any problem with that?” Yuri asks, slightly embarrassed by his behavior.  
“Actually not, we Russians like our partners passionate and possessive.”

The next day,Yuri waits in the lobby of his hotel, checking his phone for the fifth time. Viktor is sitting in a chair, looking at his phone. Finally, Phichit enters the lobby, and gives him a delighted hug.  
“I've missed you! Too bad we only have time for lunch together,” exclaims Phichit. Yuri reluctantly introduces Viktor.  
“Viktor, you remember Phichit, and this is …,” says Yuri.   
“Vasily!” cries Phichit, recognizing the other Russian dancer entering the lobby. Phichit unceremoniously gives Vasily a hug, then says, “We all going to lunch, please come!”  
“Thank you, you give a very warm invitation,” replies Vasily.  
“I know a wonderful Chinese hot pot place two blocks from here.”  
The four of them walk awkwardly together, Phichit walking with Yuri, Viktor and Vasily behind them.  
“You sure collect beautiful boyfriends!” teases Phichit. Yuri gives him a murderous glance. Soon they are all cooking pieces of meat and vegetables in a giant pot of broth. Yuri, Viktor and Vasily each order mineral water, while Phichit orders a virgin strawberry daiquiri.  
“Too bad we're working tonight, we can't get drunk, and dance like crazy!” sighs Phichit.  
“Why did you invite Vasily?” whispers Yuri furiously.  
“I've been dying to meet him, and I wanted to torture Viktor a little…he's adorable,” says Phichit, giving Vasily a flirty smile. Yuri gives up, and asks,  
“How is performing in the King and I?”  
“It's so much work! But don't change the subject, I thought you and Viktor were lovey-dovey, and Viktor is completely off the market. Why is this info not all over social media?” asks Phichit, completely astonished.  
“After everything that happened at the Mariinsky, everyone wants to keep our gossip and personal lives to ourselves,” replies Yuri.  
“I've been trolling around the Internet, to see what happened to that snake Christophe. He's been blackballed at all the ballet companies, so now he's an exotic dancer in a French club…”  
Viktor interrupts.  
“So Phichit, I assume you want to interrogate me? Or will you just tell me off as usual?” inquires Viktor. Phichit's eyes get a little narrow, knowing he's being baited.  
“Yuri is part of Ravenclaw, I'm Hufflepuff, Vasily is Gryffindor. I think you're Slytherin. Explain why I should let you be with Yuri.”  
Vasily looks at Phichit as if he's speaking Thai. Viktor replies,  
“Snape was part of Slytherin, he sacrificed everything for others. Andromeda married a Muggle, Regulus Black defected from being a Death Eater. The most powerful wizard of all time was a Slytherin, I'm talking about Merlin. Not all snakes are bad.” Then Viktor asks, “The King and I has been banned in Thailand - both film versions, I assume the stage version as well. How do you cope with that?”  
Phichit seems a little nonplussed.  
“I don't want to talk about the Thai government… but this adaptation is more modern, it addresses issues of sexism and racism, and it doesn't portray the Thai King as a buffoon. But I'm jealous of Yuri, he's getting to dance roles that aren't just typecast Asian.” Phichit takes a sip of his fruity drink, then continues, “Aren't you responsible for a married guy committing suicide?”  
Yuri looks at Phichit appalled, but Viktor replies,  
“I didn't know he was married. He claimed he wasn't gay, and I felt compelled to prove him wrong. He fell in love with me, but I made it clear I didn't want a relationship. He went back to his wife, and he believed would go to hell, if he went back to men. Unable to face the situation, he killed himself. I wish he would've called me, maybe I could have made him understand being gay isn't so terrible.”  
“So you do admit to being manipulative, to seducing random men, to being with married men,” accuses Phichit. “You knew Leroy was married. You're a bloodless snake.”  
Viktor tilts his head, considering.   
“A bad choice. But JJ wanted to be divorced, and his powerful rich wife would not let him. Were you lying in that email about being in love with Yuri?” counters Viktor.  
“I was exaggerating, I love him deeply, as a friend. You shouldn't be spying on Yuri's phone,” argues Phichit. Yuri tries to calm the two down.  
“Have either of you seen the new Ballanchine retrospective? I...” asks Yuri, pausing as his two people are glaring at each other. “Viktor, go get me another drink. Lemon mineral water!”  
Viktor nods, gives Yuri a quick peck on the forehead, and goes to find a waiter. Phichit is still fuming, but Vasily chuckles in disbelief.  
“Pissit?” asks Vasily towards Phichit. Phichit shakes his head.  
“Pich...it,” pronounces Phichit.  
“Pitya?” offers Vasily. Phichit wrinkles his nose, still not pleased. “Pishushka?”   
“Okay, I like that one. It reminds me of the ballet called Petrushka,” replies Phichit.  
“Nikiforov is not best person. But he loves Yuri. No one else except his mother, could command him like that,” marvels Vasily. Phichit nods reluctantly.

A few days later, after all of them have finished their weekend performances, they go out again. Phichit leads them to the Cubby, a gay bar with an intimate kitschy theme. There are cartoon characters decorating the seats, colorful paper lanterns, and salt-and-pepper shakers in the form of barnyard animals. Yuri orders another mineral water. Phichit orders around of colorful fruity cocktails, each a different color, with Phichit's featuring a yellow chick made out of lemon peel. Yuri gets up to use the restroom, giving both his friends warning looks. Once Yuri has left, Phichit quickly asks,   
“Viktor, have you seen Yuri drunk?”   
“Only twice. He gets… uninhibited, very different from his usual shy demeanor.”  
“Did he dance?” asks Phichit intently.  
“Outside, in front of the Winter Palace, he was like a unleashed dervish. The other time, he didn't, he passed out,” remembers Viktor.  
“Try to get him plastered, and dancing. It's unforgettable!”  
“Perhaps not such a good idea…” interjects Vasily, looking uncomfortable. Soon, Yuri returns. As if he had heard the conversation, Yuri protects his drink from being spiked by Phichit. Meanwhile, Viktor orders a bottle of very expensive champagne, pouring four glasses.  
“Happy birthday, Vasily!” announces Viktor. Vasily shakes his head, but Phichit chimes in as well,  
“Happy birthday, Vasishishushka!!” shouts Phichit. Yuri seems surprised, but says,  
“I had no idea. I hope you're enjoying your birthday,” sipping the champagne. Vasily begins to deny the celebration, but Phichit suddenly locks lips with him. Turning a bit pink, Vasily downs his glass of bubbly.

Two bottles later, the four of them stagger drunkenly to a gay bar named Sharks. There is a large dance floor, shirtless waiters, and go-go boys. Yuri is grooving to the music, and is suddenly entranced by an small stage with a pole. Viktor watches wide-eyed as Yuri strips his outer clothes off, and seductively swings himself around the pole with charged eroticism. The men watching catcall, and Phichit elbows Viktor and Vasily.  
“I told you! He is dweeby in day-to-day life, yet he's the sexiest dancer I've ever seen!” explains Phichit. “Hey, he's learned some new moves...”  
Vasily's jaw is hanging open in disbelief, while Viktor watches appreciatively, taking a video.  
“He's not bad in bed, but obviously he's not living up to his potential…” muses Viktor. Phichit pokes a finger at Vasily.  
“How are you in bed?” questions Phichit. Vasily shrugs, but smiles.

Later that evening, Viktor is half carrying a very inebriated Yuri, while Vasily is helping Phichit walk a straight line.  
“Viktor, you said Yuri danced in front of Winter Palace? I auditioned that, for a movie. I play Nureyev about his young life,” remarks Vasily.  
“Nureyev danced in front of the Winter Palace? I suppose many dancers have…” Viktor replies, finding the coincidence a bit eerie.  
“Yes, yes. There was no music, except from his soul. Leaping and twirling like a…tornada?” questions Vasily.  
“Tornado.”  
“Yes, tornado. I was so tired from dancing that scene over and over for the director. I hope to get the role, I want to become international star like you,” resolves Vasily.


	21. Chapter 21: Breaking Pointe

St. Petersburg is thawing, the river is moving again, and the streets are filled with brown slush. The days are getting longer, spring feels near. At the old Mariinsky, Viktor and Yuri, Yulia and Plisetsky perform Journey of Love. The dance between Viktor and Yuri is especially eye-catching, the whole audience is wrapped up in their every move. Afterwards, Yakov tells his wife,  
“I no longer regret hiring Katsuki. Everyone was touched by his performance. And Viktor is transformed as well, sometimes he seems like a different person…”  
"He's found an entrance to love through his relationship with Katsuki. People shine brightest when they understand what kind of love sustains them,” declares Lilia, giving Yakov a disappointed look.

Viktor is woken up by Yuri talking in his asleep. He hears,  
“Erik? Erik… Can you hear me? I flew from Paris to be here, but you are so sick, they say you may not regain consciousness. I don't know why I came… I hate hospitals. I miss you, my love. You know me, I pursue young handsome Adonis types, but I don't love them the way I love you. And now, you're dying… leaving me all alone. We found each other, but that wasn't enough. I must dance. I will die on that stage, as long as one person pays to watch me…goodbye, my love.”  
Viktor feels a cold chill go down his spine. Yuri is speaking in perfect Russian, without any trace of accent. The next morning, Viktor explains to Yuri what happened during the night.  
“That makes sense. Yesterday, was April 1st, the day Bruhn died. I was probably dreaming about the event, and the date was in my unconscious,” reassures Yuri.  
“What did he die of?” asks Viktor, still spooked.  
“Lung cancer.”  
“Yuck. I can't stand cigarettes,” reacts Viktor with revulsion.

The next day, Viktor observes Yakov berating Yuri, who keeps shaking his head. Yakov storms off.  
“Is everything all right?” asks Viktor, concerned. Yuri shrugs.   
“Mister Feltsman wants me to sign a contract for next season. But Lupe Montalvo, the art director for the Cleveland Ballet, was in Tucson back in February, and she saw me perform. She's offered me a position as a principal dancer. I'm tempted to do that, I enjoyed living in the US. It would be nice to live near Phichit again.”  
Viktor pulls Yuri into an alcove, and stands there frozen. Yuri stares at him puzzled, as huge tears are running down Viktor's face. Yuri looks at the tears, and touches them, astonished.  
“Viktor? What's wrong?”  
Viktor is incensed by the question.  
“You're leaving? Were you not going to tell me? What happens to me?”  
“Viktor, the Mariinsky is your home. Hopefully, we will see each other during breaks. You must keep dancing, it makes my spirit soar – there's nothing so beautiful,” whispers Yuri. Overwhelmed, Viktor leaves and takes refuge in his dressing room.

Yuri watches Viktor avoid him, and disappear into the bedroom all evening. Yuri feels helpless and goes about his business, going to sleep in his own room. In the middle of the night, Viktor crawls in next to him. Too tired to say anything, Yuri simply makes room. But when he wakes up the next morning, Viktor is already gone. The rest of the day, Viktor ignores him.

Once back at the apartment, Yuri sits on the couch, finally forcing Viktor into conversation.  
“Viktor, I told you I was only staying till the end of the season,” Yuri reminds him.  
“Yes… but that was before you knew how I felt,” replies Viktor.  
“I care about you, so much… but for the first time, I believe I can perform at a principal level.”  
“What about us? Why not stay here? Yakov knows your potential, eventually he will promote you to principal…You're just running away again.”  
Yuri sighs and tries to explain,   
“I don't know much about love or relationships. But if we can't survive living apart for a while, then maybe it's more imaginary than real. I'm not running away, quite the contrary... I'm much more afraid of failing at being a principal dancer… The only reason I have this opportunity is because you love me and you changed my dancing. I want to stay, and continue our life here. Maybe it's just too hard to have a relationship between two ballet dancers. The relationship didn't work out for Nureyev and Bruhn.”  
“I don't care who we were before, whether famous ballet dancers or pieces of mud. I care about who we are now, and what we do with our futures!” insists Viktor, storming out of the room.

Yuri takes a break in the wings, sweating after several run-throughs of Journey to Love. Yakov waves him over.  
“You're anticipating the next move, and moving your center of balance too soon. But aside from that, you're much improved. And about Viktor, I've known him a long time. He behaves differently towards you. At the Swan Lake performance, Viktor had told me about entrapping Christophe. He was going to do anything to protect you.”  
Yuri looks around at the studio, gazing fondly at the people. He will miss all this, especially dancing this role. It hurts to imagine another dancer taking his place, and dancing with Viktor.

“This Saturday we're having dinner with my parents,” announces Viktor the next day, still acting hurt.  
Viktor's parents greet them with a mountain of food. Yuri can barely see the table, and he wonders if other people have been invited to eat.   
“So, your name is Yuri? A good Russian name. And a ballet dancer as well, good, good,” declares Viktor's father.  
“You must miss your family, do you see them often?” asks the mother.  
“I saw them last summer, but it's expensive and I don't get very much time off,” replies Yuri.  
The family eats in silence, then afterwards talk about art and politics. Then Viktor's father takes Viktor into the other room to show him a newly acquired book collection. Yuri helps the mother with the dishes. Without preamble she says,  
“Viktor has never brought anyone home before… I pushed him to become a great dancer, but I did not teach him to be a good human being. I will tell you though, he does not give his heart lightly. Once he loves, he doesn't stop.”

The next day after morning ballet class, Mila takes Yuri aside.  
“Katsuki, I wanted to say about Viktor that…”  
“You too? Ever since Viktor has found out I'm leaving, everybody's been telling me how wonderful he is... If Viktor wants something, he needs to tell me himself,” grumbles Yuri. Mila nods in agreement, looking uncomfortable. 

Yuri goes to visit Tamara's apartment. She ushers him in with delight.  
“What may I do for you?” she asks.  
“I need choose between what's best for my career, and what's best for my relationship. I'm sorry, I'm sure you have no interest in my problems…” explains Yuri, feeling foolish. She smiles, and make some tea.  
“Tell me what is happening.”  
“Right now, I have more than I've ever dreamed of having. I dance solo roles, and I'm so in love…you met him, the man who was with me last time. He's amazing. He's smart and we share something I don't even know how to explain… The only thing missing is for me to become a principal dancer. Every dancer wants that chance, and very few achieve it. I was just offered that in the United States. I feel so ripped apart…”  
“Rudik was so in love with Erik, it was hard to focus on his career. When the relationship fell apart, Rudik made sure to keep his relationships short and less intense. He chose dance over love. You are young, dance while you can,” recommends Tamara.

Yuri sits on the couch with Viktor, and waits. Every second feels like minutes to Yuri. Finally, Yuri takes a deep breath and says,  
“The problem is…if I stay here, I will resent you for keeping me from my full potential. The Mariinsky is not the right fit for me professionally, so I'm still moving to Cleveland. You're a dancer! You would do the same in my position.”  
“Yuri!” Viktor clenches his hand, “don't you feel that we belong together?”  
Yuri nods.   
“Yes, you are a part of my soul, but so is dancing…” acknowledges Yuri, distressed.

That night, Viktor focuses on Yuri's body, kissing, touching and licking, and not letting Yuri pleasure Viktor back.   
“Viktor, it's not fair trying to convince me in bed to stay… I can't resist your touch. I need your support in leaving, please love…” begs Yuri.   
“I won't let you go, it's too difficult,” growls Viktor, hoping that by joining their bodies, Yuri will stay.

The next day, Viktor grabs his phone with distaste.  
“Phichit, it's Viktor.”  
“Viktor, I don't like you very much…” replies Phichit.  
“Yes, that's why I'm calling. Yuri's had a great job offer for Cleveland Ballet, and after thinking about it, I agree with him. It's the best career opportunity for him, he's reached a plateau at the Mariinsky, they're not likely to promote him anymore. So I need your help in… letting Yuri go. You understand how wonderful he is, and why I don't want him to leave. So convince me.”  
“Viktor, if you love him, you want what's best for him, not for yourself. And I'll kick your ass if you don't do it. Are we clear?” warns Phichit.  
“Perfectly. Thank you.”

Monday morning, of their day off, Viktor emerges from his bedroom, with dark circles under his eyes and a giant brick of a book. He makes some coffee, then bangs the book on the table.  
“I stayed up all night reading,” announces Viktor. Yuri takes a look at the title: Nureyev: A Life.  
“Why?” asks Yuri.  
“You fear we'll make the same mistakes they did. As far as I can tell, their careers pulled them apart, and Nureyev's emotional outbursts were too much for Bruhn. They were also 10 years apart in age, and suffering from AIDS. We are much better suited to each other than they were. The sex is good, the conversation is good, we are friends, and if this weird connection we have isn't a link of the souls, it's because souls don't exist,” proclaims Viktor.  
“You said I shouldn't expect all of that from one person,” objects Yuri.  
“No one should. But you found me, and I am that one person in millions who is all that. Are we clear?”   
“Yes, Viktor, I fully comprehend how special our relationship is…” Yuri says appeasingly.  
“Good. Move to Cleveland, and we'll visit each other when we can. And Yuri… where the hell is Cleveland?” grumbles Viktor. Yuri feels a weight lift from his heart, only to be replaced with a different pain. He goes over and hugs Viktor, wondering how he's going to leave.

To: Phichit Chulanont  
From: Katsuki Yuri

Dear Phichit,  
although I've been offered a position in Cleveland, I've decided to stay here in St. Petersburg. How is New York? Are you still in touch with Vasily?

Yuri presses send on his computer keyboard, then his phone rings.  
“HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!” screams Phichit into the phone.  
“No… It's just, I have weighed the pros and cons and…” stutters Yuri.  
“Bull crap! You're not giving up the best offer of your career for that pasty Russian vampire! Last time we talked to you were determined… What changed?” demands Phichit. Yuri bites his lip, and says nothing. Eventually, Yuri admits,  
“Well… Viktor was doing everything to persuade me to stay, but then he changed his mind. He told me to go. Do you think he realized he'd be better off without me?”  
“Aaaaaaaagh, did love make you stupid? He told you to go because he cares about you, and knows what's best for you. And because I told him I'd put a stake through him if you didn't… Yuri, don't make me fly all the way out there and drag you to Cleveland.”

Two weeks later, Yuri is at the airport at the airport. He is standing close to Viktor, not sure how to say goodbye.  
“How soon can I come visit?” questions Viktor.  
“As soon as I feel… settled, but you need Feltsman's permission. I don't want him on my case.” Yuri takes a deep breath. “Thank you for trying so hard to make me stay. I'm able to leave because of that.”  
“I want you to stay, so you leave? Are you some kind of sadist?” inquires Viktor.  
“No. I'm worried you will forget about me… Out of sight, out of mind,” admits Yuri. He really wants to bury himself in Viktor's arms, but he senses the disapproval from the people around them.  
“Yuri, I'm one of the most stubborn and persistent people you will ever meet. It's one of the reasons I've been so successful in my career. You aren't getting rid of me.”  
Viktor hugs him, Yuri tries to imprint the feeling in his memory.

The first week, they talk on the phone every night, Yuri has several anxiety attacks being in a new city all alone. The second week, Viktor tries to move the conversation in another direction. Yuri checks his watch, he is supposed to call in at midnight every night, which is 8 am in St. Petersburg.  
“Good morning!” Yuri greets Viktor, with a fake cheerfulness.  
“Not good, you hung up on me last time,” complains Viktor.  
“Viktor, you were late for morning class…”  
“You hung up on me, and then masturbated alone. The point of phone sex is for both of us to communicate while we touch ourselves,” lectures Viktor.  
“I know, I know! But I miss you touching me, I'm weirded out by distorted groans on speakerphone… I can't do it. So… go ahead. Find someone else, but please don't tell me about it…” Yuri offers despondently.  
“That's not what I want! Make an effort. Oh, I don't know, ask Phichit for help,” replies Viktor frustrated, then hangs up.

The next day, Yuri drones into the phone,  
“I really want to take your shirt off, button by button, and now… I want to remove your pants. And now I want to kiss you, now I'm removing your underpants…” Yuri gives up. “That's not any better,” laments Yuri.  
“I can tell you're reading, never mind,” responds Viktor, hanging up. “Damn! I don't know how to help him…Should I send him erotic novels?” Viktor asks himself.

Viktor checks his watch, and it's way past 8 am. He sits around for another 10 minutes, not wanting to wake Yuri, if he's fallen asleep. Viktor stares at his phone, then dials Yuri's number.  
“Haallo, this ish Yuri!” answers Yuri in a singsong voice.  
“Hello, what are you doing?” inquires Viktor.  
“I talked to Phichit. I have …wine, a vibrator, and ...a video of you naked. Well… almost naked, but I'm naked, butt naked,” replies Yuri with a giggle.  
“I see. So why didn't you call me at 8 o'clock, I mean midnight?”  
“The vibrator ish not working. Maybe... I put the batteries in backwards. Then I drank the wine, now ... I can't unscrew the vibrator ... I have to screw and unscrew the vibrator, before I can, well, screw the vibrator. No. The vibrator should screw me. This is my firsht vibrator, from online... It's cold, not like you... I miss you... I miss you naked in pershon, not naked on my computer.”  
“Yuri, how much wine did you drink?”  
“One bottle? But no worry… if this doesn't work, Phishit shaid there are gay men apps. I can order a man for you. Online! Do they deliver men to your doors? I wish you would deliver you to my door…”  
Viktor checks his watch again, realizing he's going to be late.  
“Yuri, close the computer and go to bed. We'll talk later. I love you.”  
“I'll be alone with Jushtin then…” replies Yuri, hanging up.  
“What? Who is Justin? He must have said ...he's just in… his apartment.” Viktor turns off his phone, and rants to himself, “How am I supposed to work? All I can think about is naked drunk Yuri with a vibrator.” Viktor runs his hands through his hair. “Yuri, you are so sweet, sexy, funny and amazing… I miss you so much it hurts.”

The next day, Viktor's phone rings, and no one speaks.  
“Yuri? Why aren't you talking?” asks Viktor.  
“You're mad at me because of the rotten phone sex. I don't know what to say,” whispers Yuri.  
“I appreciate your effort. Now let's talk about something else. No wait. Who is Justin?”  
“Justin? Oh, I don't know… maybe he's in corps de ballet…do you want me to check?”  
“No, never mind. How's it going at the ballet company?” questions Viktor, frustrated by the conversation.  
“Debbie Johnson is a good teacher, we are rehearsing for Romeo and Juliet…”

Viktor is dispirited from Yuri's departure. He refuses to sign a contract with Yakov, and has no inspiration for new choreography. He rehearses Journey to Love to pass the time. A few weeks later, Yakov calls him to his office.  
“Go visit him. I can't stand you moping around anymore, and I'm not supposed to allow you in the building without a contract,” growls Yakov. Viktor nods, and leaves.

Yuri is walking home late after his performance, when he gets a text from Viktor.  
Viktor Nikiforov: I'm flying to Cleveland today, my plane arrives at 11:58 pm. your time.

Viktor's plane lands at the Cleveland airport, and Viktor waits impatiently as people grab their bags and exit the plane. As soon as he walks through the security,  
“Viktor!” calls out Yuri with a smile, and throws himself in his arms. Viktor holds him for several minutes, feeling their bodies fit together perfectly. 

Once back at the apartment, Yuri grabs his coat collar, and kisses him. They remove each other's clothes quickly, desperately wanting to touch each other. Finally, they are skin to skin, rubbing against each other, and deeply kissing. Yuri pushes Viktor down onto the couch, then pauses for a moment, rubbing Viktor's behind questioningly.   
“Yuri, make love to me…” begs Viktor.  
Soon he is thrusting, lost in Viktor's arms. Sex feels so natural now, an easy communication through touching.

The next morning, Yuri prepares to go to class, then to the theater in Playhouse Square. Viktor is still in bed, and slowly waking up. Yuri gives him a quick kiss, then says,  
“I have to perform in Romeo and Juliet tonight, but then I'll have two days off. I got you a ticket in the audience. I haven't told anybody you're coming, so expect to be mobbed afterwards. Rebeka Gomez will be dancing with me, she's a wonderful dancer from Mexico City, our chemistry has been good.”

That evening,Viktor dresses in elegant charcoal suit, and watches Yuri dance an emotional performance, with a wonderful sense of musicality. Yuri is wearing a Renaissance tunic with white tights. The prima ballerina with the dark hair and the lively eyes is captivating as Juliet , dressed in a Grecian white dress. The pair connect wonderfully well, their lines complementing each other. Viktor feels his heart sink. Part of him had wished Yuri would do poorly, and return quickly to St. Petersburg.

After the performance, Viktor searches for Yuri's dressing room, holding a bouquet of red chrysanthemums. Dancers and fans crowd around him, recognizing him. Viktor disengages himself, refusing to sign autographs. He pushes into the room, and announces,  
“I'm here to see the fabulous dancer, Yuri Katsuki.”  
Yuri takes the flowers with a smile, focused on removing his stage makeup.  
“Me too! Me too!” yells a short Asian boy with bleached blonde hair. “I've seen every performance I possibly can, I've seen Katsuki play the first mouse, second mouse, fourth mouse, and I saw the amazing performance where he was promoted to mouse King.”  
Yuri looks at the boy dumbfounded.  
“I was wearing a giant mouse head, how did you know I danced the mouse King?” demands Yuri intently. The boy responds,  
“Your arms. You have such expressive arms… My name is Minami Kenjiro, I'm a ballet dancer too!”  
Uncertain what to do, Yuri waves to a handsome blonde young man to come over.  
“Justin! I want you to meet Viktor… Viktor this is Justin, from the corps de ballet.”  
Viktor regards the younger man with suspicion. It seems the whole company is filled with young attractive men smiling at Yuri. Then Rebeka stops by and gives Yuri a hug.  
“Dios mio! Why is the dance legend from Russia here? Rebeka Gomez, prima ballerina,” she introduces herself. “Oh, we look good together! Yuri, take a photo of me with Nikiforov!” she squeals, hugging Viktor with a big smile. “Am I too short to be his partner?”  
Yuri obligingly takes a few photos, then replies,  
“He's already taken, both onstage and off,” reaching over and giving Viktor a quick kiss. Rebeka squeals even louder. Minami watches, and turns red.  
“Adorable! Yuri is so full of secrets, we must have dinner soon,” she says to Viktor, “Yuri is wonderful to dance with…” and sashays out the door. About an hour later, everyone else has left, except for Minami still sitting in a corner, starstruck. Viktor grumbles,  
“Please give that fan boy of yours a signed photo, or a pair of underpants, so he will leave…”  
Yuri looks around his dressing room, grabs a pen, and signs the T-shirt Minami is wearing.  
“Keep dancing, uh, maybe you'll be a mouse someday…” encourages Yuri awkwardly. Minami grins wildly, and bolts from the room. Yuri changes into street clothes, and they leave together.

Yuri and Viktor spend most of the next two days in bed. Yuri stretches and snuggles into Viktor's body, in a contented haze.  
“I'm surprised you visited me so soon,” says Yuri. “Is it because you needed sex?”   
“I left because you kept offering me other men. When you're happy, you're possessive. When you're unhappy, you try to fix me up. I was worried you would sign me up with an online dating service,” chides Viktor. Yuri watches Viktor's face, sensing his unhappiness.  
“I've never been in a relationship, I don't know what to expect...it doesn't seem fair for you to go without sex for months…” explains Yuri.  
“I don't like it, but you're not ready to have an open relationship. Honestly, how would you feel if I had a one night stand?” demands Viktor.  
“I' d hate it! I want you all to myself…the thought of someone else touching you is… horrible. But I prefer that to losing you…” admits Yuri.  
“I want you to be happy, not worried and jealous. So I won't see other people. That goes for you too, right?”  
“Of course,” assures Yuri, astonished. Viktor turns away,   
“When you were drunk, you mentioned another man's name. Justin.”  
“Oh? Oh!” Yuri reaches over and kisses Viktor. “Justin was the name of the wine I was drinking. Justin Cellars, not bad for an inexpensive wine.” Yuri kisses Viktor again. “You're usually so confident, I'm amazed you need reassurance. You are my life, my love, and I've missed your wonderful lovemaking. After all, I'm bored with sleeping with the whole Cleveland corps de ballet,” teases Yuri.   
Viktor replies with irritation,  
“You probably have several guys pretending to be your friend, wanting to bed you.”  
“Speaking of other men, when you were performing Stay Close to Me, you were searching for someone. Who was it?”  
“When I was 17, I was lonely, and spent time on ballet chat forums. I met somebody, and we used to IM a lot. I told this person all my secret hopes, and I wanted to show him my dreams had come true. He said he was a 17-year-old ballet student in New York, tall and blonde. Although, he was probably a 50-year-old pervert trolling for boys…”  
Yuri frowns in concentration, hanging on his every word.  
“The ballet was the message?” clarifies Yuri.  
“Part of it. There's also a message in the program,” explains Viktor. Yuri scrambles around the apartment, digging through his books, photo albums and scrapbooks. He finally finds one with the  
Stay Close to Me program, and quickly reads through it. Then he sees it.

Thank you for your encouragement AdonisEnAttitude from LilacFairyBallerino.

“Uuuuuh, oh… holy…crap! Viktor…” exclaims Yuri.  
“What?” asks Viktor.  
“You weren't talking to a 50-year-old pervert, but a 14-year-old boy in Japan…me.”  
“What?! What are you talking about?”  
“Minako sensei was trying to get me into ABT, and I fantasized about being a tall blonde American. So I pretended to be one… online. I received several… sexual invitations, while yours was, sweet and interesting,” confesses Yuri.  
“Stop making fun of me! I was young and innocent, ...and very idealistic!” growls Viktor.  
“I'm not! You messaged about existential angst as normal, so I started reading philosophy…” remembers Yuri. “I know! You called yourself the Lilac Fairy because she is the force of good, she puts Aurora to sleep so she can be awakened by true love's kiss,” recalls Yuri. Viktor rubs his head in disbelief.  
“Why is everything about us weird? I know ballet is a small world but… you ghosted me,” remembers Viktor.  
“You wanted to meet! And I had lied… and then I took a bunch of pills…” recalls Yuri.  
“So both times our relationship started with a lie,” adds Viktor cynically, “Well no wonder bedding American blondes wasn't working…”  
Yuri pounces on him, pushing him back into bed.  
“No more talk of bedding other men, focus on me…” growls Yuri jealously. Viktor strokes Yuri's face.  
“This means I've been in love with you for 11 years…” Viktor says appeasingly, as Yuri kisses him.

A few days later later, Viktor returns to St. Petersburg. He reluctantly signs a short-term contract with the Mariinsky, with promised time off. Meanwhile, Yuri receives a phone call from Phichit.  
“Your relationship with Viktor is everywhere on social media now!” announces Phichit.  
“Yes, I told my coworkers Viktor was my boyfriend when he came to visit…” admits Yuri.  
“Don't worry, most people are very supportive. How's the long distance thing going?”   
“Not well. Verbalizing isn't my forte…” acknowledges Yuri. There's a silence.  
“That's right, you're dancer not a talker… Have I told you what a cam boy is?” asks Phichit.  
“A cowboy? I'm not good with horses either…”

A couple months later, Yuri calls Viktor.  
“Viktor, I'm in a panic! They want me to perform James in La Sylphide. I'm struggling with the choreography, it's ridiculously huffy. I hate all that bouncy precise Bournonville technique from Denmark. I'm Japanese, pretending to be a Scotsman, and my sylph is from Mexico. I miss you Russians!”  
“Oh? Are you wearing a kilt? I bet your fans would enjoy you not wearing much under it,” replies Viktor unhelpfully.  
“Viktor I need you to talk to me like a ballet friend, not like a horny boyfriend… How do I learn this choreography?”  
“It's a rhythm, da de de da de dum, mmm, I'll send a video explaining more later.”  
The next week, Yuri is so busy learning choreography and preparing for his first performance of the difficult dance, he barely calls. Viktor becomes cold and sullen to everyone at the Mariinsky. He still refuses to sign a long-term contract with Yakov, and has given up on doing choreography. He shows up for morning ballet class, then disappears to walk next to the Neva River. At the end of the month, Mila tries to cheer him up.  
“Katsuki is doing well, his première went well, the reviews were great!” she exclaims.  
“Professionally, I agree. But privately, he is not,” curtly replies Viktor.  
“Has he said that?” she asks, curious.  
“No. He says nothing, which is worse.”  
Viktor stares at his phone, angry that Yuri has not contacted him. Viktor has already left multiple voice messages, and texted enough times to look desperate. Viktor decides to write an email. For some reason, Yuri replies more to that format.

To: Katsuki Yuri  
From: Viktor Nikiforov

Dear Yuri,  
you've retreated back into your shell, and I'll be honest, I'm not sure what to do. Please darling, try to communicate what's happening to you. Whether you've contracted an incurable disease, accidentally killed someone, or are haunted by a ghost, I want to know…  
Viktor

Dear Viktor,  
I'm sorry, I know disappearing is a big weakness of mine. There have been so many changes in my life in the last year, I don't know who I am anymore. If I were to go back in time, the New York me would be a stranger. It has helped my dancing. Before every performance, I empty myself and dance like it's the first time. You have changed as well, I now see how unhappy you were when we first met, though now you are unhappy for a different reason… I'm not sure who you fell in love with, since I am never the same. Is love worth all of this turmoil? The more time we spend apart, the more it feels like I imagined our encounter.  
Yuri

Dear Yuri,  
I love you, not only as an ideal, or an exciting idea, but I love you for all you are and what you are…I don't think you realize that your weaknesses have made you strong, and that you inspire me… We have something beautiful coming, and perhaps something of great suffering ahead, but please let us share all of that together. Let us face it together, let us not be alone… I have found you. I hope you have found me too.  
Viktor


	22. Chapter 22: I Have Dreamed

Yuri walks home late after his performance, when he gets a text from Viktor.

Viktor Nikiforov: I'm flying to Cleveland today, my plane arrives at 11:56 pm. your time.

Viktor lands at the Cleveland airport, nervous about visiting Yuri this time. As soon as he walks through the security, Yuri throws himself in his arms. Viktor holds him for several minutes, feeling a deep sense of relief.   
“Are you okay?” murmurs Viktor.  
“My dancing has been good, it's a lot of work performing lead roles. How long are you here for?” babbles Yuri, not answering the question.  
“I'm not sure. Don't worry, during the day I can cook and clean just like… a helpful roommate,” reassures Viktor. Yuri turns little pink, he had expected Viktor to say ... like a husband. They go to Yuri's tiny apartment, where Viktor barely removes his shoes before collapsing from jet lag on Yuri's bed. Yuri lies next to him, watching till he falls asleep. Then he whispers,  
“I can't believe you're here, and you look more beautiful than I remembered…” Yuri gently pushes back a lock of Viktor's hair. “I've been working harder than I've ever worked in my life. I want to make you proud, I hope you see that my dancing has improved from moving here. But at the end of the day, when I'm alone in this apartment, I miss you so much it hurts. I'm sorry to be so weak and needy.”  
Yuri pulls a blanket over the two of them, and nestles his head on Viktor's shoulder. Viktor pulls him and closer.  
“Did you hear me?” asks Yuri.  
“Yes. And you're in big trouble…you can't lecture me about honesty, then lie to me about being okay. I love you more than you can imagine, Yuri.”

The next morning, Yuri leaves to dance, and returns late that evening. Once at the apartment, Yuri acts busy, tidying up the clean apartment. Viktor watches him from the couch, then says,  
“Yuri, if you're nervous about having sex, please just say so…” Yuri grabs some chips and hummus, then sits at the table to eat.  
“Not exactly nervous… more like disconnected,” decides Yuri.  
“Yuri, that's why I had to visit you again. The first week you called a lot, the second week only once, and the third week not at all… I know you're busy, but you're trying to shut me out of your heart to survive being far away from me.”  
“Lately, I feel like James from La Sylphide. I had a dream about a Russian sylph, and then I woke up alone.”  
Viktor gets up, and pulls Yuri to the couch.  
“You're a lot of work, but you're worth it,” affirms Viktor. “Let me get you into the mood. Remember when I lent you my clothes? You drove me crazy with desire… You were running your hands over your chest, and I just wanted to lift that sweater, and run my tongue up the mid line of your chest. Since you weren't wearing underwear, I wanted to tease you, and brush up against the front of your pants, and run my toes on the inside of your legs while you were eating. Then I'd accidentally spills something, so I'd have to rub the front of your pants…”  
Yuri interrupts him, kissing him passionately. But Viktor simply lies there.  
“Why aren't you moving? I'm completely in the mood now,” insists Yuri.  
“You have to tell a story first,” bargains Viktor.  
“Why?”  
“Because you still need to practice for phone sex,” admits Viktor. “Actually, you must call me every day I'm away,” decides Viktor. “I have to counter the disconnect. What? Did you think a long-distance relationship would be easy?”  
“Okay, okay, you have a point. Um, I, sort of wanted you in Venice…”  
“Specifics Yuri, you wanted to do what to me in Venice…”  
“Not at the time, I was too …overwhelmed. But later… I imagined you taking me on the balcony, but the balcony was wrought iron, so first we needed to cover it with a blanket … Oh, I can't talk dirty in person, no wonder I can't do it on the phone.”

The next morning, Rebeka pulls him aside.  
“Debbie Johnson, the head ballet mistress wants you to attend a meeting with the board.”  
Yuri nods his head, and goes to the large meeting room. Yuri recognizes the art director, Lupe Montalvo, and a few other people around the large table. Debbie Johnson gets right to the point.  
“I would like to ask the board to have the dancer Yuri Katsuki removed from the company. His homosexual choices are unbecoming of a representative of our company, and his contact with the younger male dancers in the locker rooms and bathrooms are dangerous to their well-being,” declares Johnson.  
“Mister Katsuki, do you have anything to add to your defense?” asks the head of the board.  
“I'm not sure what to say… my private life has nothing to do with the company, my behavior with everyone in the company has been exemplary. My dancing has been very good,” responds Yuri, stunned by the accusation.  
“I see… We will need to discuss this between ourselves. If you would please excuse us…” says the art director apologetically. Rebeka strides into the room, shaking a piece of paper.  
“I have a petition signed by members of the company, supporting Mister Katsuki. In addition, I'll have you know, Mister Katsuki will be suing you for wrongful termination if you proceed. Also, you will have a shit storm on the news for being anti-gay! Be careful what you decide.”  
Rebeka grabs Yuri's arm, and pulls him out of the meeting.  
“Ha! I like watching American TV, I copied them to decide what to say. You look pale, go home and rest.”

Yuri walks into the apartment, still shaken. Viktor quickly gets out of him what happened. A very nasty expression crosses Viktor's face. Yuri shakes his head.  
“Whatever vengeful idea is crossing your mind, forget about it. I thought the United States was more open than Russia,” laments Yuri.  
“The US is more polarized. I was reading that gay marriage is legal in New York, while in Ohio they have a Defense of Marriage act banning it. Though… wouldn't straight marriages be more protected if people like me were safely married off?” jokes Viktor, trying to lighten the mood. 

The rest of the week, Yuri goes through the motions of going to class, and attending rehearsals. But emotionally, he finds it hard to recover from the discriminatory attack. At lunch, he walks outside eating his sandwich, avoiding the people of the company. There's a giant billboard advertising a Wedding Expo, with a photo of a couple in wedding attire looking lovingly into each other's eyes. He sees a bakery with the giant four-story wedding cake in the window. The little plastic figurines of the bride and groom make him feel left out and sad.

Yuri picks up his phone, and calls Phichit.  
“Phichit, I need someone to talk to…” begins Yuri.  
“I was just reading about your situation with Cleveland Ballet! Viktor wrote a very moving piece on your blog, maybe he's not all bad…” reluctantly admits Phichit.  
“Oh that. It's strange, I'm not really worried about losing my job. I'm a good dancer, I'll find a job elsewhere if they're too prejudiced to work with me. It's something else…but, lately, I keep daydreaming about… marriage…” Yuri almost whispers.  
“What about marriage?” demands Phichit with a stern tone.  
“I want to… I think… I would really like… to get married.”  
“Huh? You would like to be married in general, or you want to marry someone in particular?” questions Phichit, being purposely dense.  
“Someone in particular, a Russian you don't particularly like…”  
Phichit groans.  
“Yuri, I know you're crazy about him but… really reflect about this! You need to be on the same page about money and fidelity and… maybe even working in the same town? You should at least try to have sex with someone else.”  
“You're right, about working in the same town. But it's also something Viktor said, that no matter what happens, I will always love him. Maybe it's corny but… I want to tell the whole world that he's mine,” admits Yuri. Phichit grumbles,   
“I will ...support you, but not if he mistreats you in any way.”

A few days later, Lupe Montalvo calls him into her office.  
“I am so sorry, I wanted to apologize directly to you. Mrs. Johnson is not representative of our company as a whole. We cannot fire her for her opinions, but we have issued a statement about supporting diversity in our company. Do you have any questions or comments?”  
“Not really. I appreciate the apology and the statement,” replies Yuri.  
“Then… do you mind my asking, are you really dating Viktor Nikiforov?” inquires Montalvo.  
“Yes, is that a problem?” responds Yuri nervously.  
“Oh no! You're a lucky dog! That man is ridiculously hot,” remarks Montalvo enviously.

For the next few days, Yuri imagines how to propose. The Internet offers ideas of skywriting, writing on food, putting up billboards, singing telegrams, or even a treasure hunt where the other person finds a ring. Yuri panics, and calls Phichit again.  
“I can't propose at a sports' game, we don't even watch sports,” says Yuri.  
“What? Where are you getting these ideas… Never mind, what if your albino Russian proposed to you? What would be important?” questions Phichit.  
“That it be genuine, from the heart… “ replies Yuri.  
“See? That's all that matters. Just relax, and keep an open mind. Eventually, the perfect way will come to you. There's no rush, take your time. Really, take all the time in the world…”  
“Phichit, that's enough, or you won't be invited to the wedding… Wait! What if he says no? I was reading that lots of gay men resist the trappings of heterosexual norms…”  
“Gobbledygook! I'll talk to you later,” says Phichit, ending the call.

A week later,Yuri is in his dressing room, taking off his makeup, when Viktor shows up and says,  
“I have this idea for a pas de deux, this will only take a minute.” Viktor drags Yuri to the stage, still wearing his kilt. The beautiful forest scenery with some stone ruins from La Sylphide is still up, and a single spot illuminates the stage.  
“Won't we get in trouble for being here late?” Yuri comments.  
“I asked a lighting tech to do me a favor, he'll turn everything off for us,” replies Viktor. He gestures for Yuri to come over inside the spotlight. Yuri comes over, and Viktor takes his hand. Viktor muses,  
“In Shakespeare's time, men performed the role of women. Nureyev's Romeo and Juliet was influenced by that, he gave Juliet a stronger character and Romeo a weaker feminine one. I want to dance a romantic classical pas de deux with two men. But I noticed that men center of gravity is higher, although men don't usually do pointe work…could we try different lifts?”  
Viktor experiments with a few handholds on Yuri's waist.   
“In La Sylphide, Effie and James are preparing to get married, the sylph comes forward and steals the wedding ring. I'm the sylph, you're James,” directs Viktor.  
They mime the scene. Viktor shakes his head.  
“I don't want to scurry away like that, maybe I could zigzag in a more puckish manner… Here.”  
Viktor hands him a gold ring. Yuri holds it up like he's considering marrying Effie, then Viktor darts around him, and steals the ring. Viktor places it on his finger, and as Yuri comes forward to take it back, Viktor places another ring into Yuri's hand. Confused, Yuri says,  
“Another ring? There's only one in our version of the ballet…” Yuri looks at it more carefully. “This looks like gold, is it real?”  
“It's real if you want it to be…” Viktor replies ambiguously. Yuri frowns, confused. Viktor pauses, and rubs his hands together nervously.  
“Erik Bruhn once said his life story was sad, a life full of dance but not a great deal else. I want a lot more, I want you. Will you live with me for the rest of our lives?” questions Viktor, suddenly down on one knee.   
“Viktor, this sounds like a proposal of marriage...” remarks Yuri, still not understanding.  
“Yes,” says Viktor, gazing up at him. Yuri looks at the ring, at Viktor still on one knee, and finally registers what's happening. Yuri stands there silently, in shock. Then Yuri blurts out,  
“I was considering proposing… I thought it was too soon. Viktor, are you sure? Oh, my stomach is churning…”   
“Yuri, I'm the one down on one knee. You're supposed to say yes!” complains Viktor. Yuri imagines it. Marrying Viktor, growing old together…  
“Yes. I want to very much, marry you that is… ” and kisses Viktor.   
“I'll keep fighting to keep you Yuri, I don't mind doing it for the rest of our lives,” murmurs Viktor. He takes the ring, and slides it on Yuri's right hand.  
“This is perfect. I miss being on stage with you,” murmurs Yuri.  
Viktor examines Yuri, and says,  
“Can you take that costume home?”

Yuri barely has a moment to get into the apartment, when Viktor is all over him, running his hands under the kilt.  
“I had no idea a plaid skirt would turn you on… It makes me feel like a Japanese schoolgirl…” rambles Yuri.   
“Not the image I had in mind, help me remove your underwear…”  
Viktor unbuttons Yuri's white shirt, then pulls it off.  
“Shall I remove the knee-high plaid socks?”  
“No. For once, socks and no pants are a turn on…” remarks Viktor. Viktor positions Yuri next to the bed, angled towards the full-length mirror on the door. “I have a whole new appreciation for La Sylphide, I always thought it lacked in the story department.”   
Yuri turns towards Viktor, giving him a passionate kiss. Yuri declares,  
“Unlike the ballet, you stay with me and live a long life. I know I'm difficult, living with you made me realize that. But I swear to you, I'm more in love with you every day.”

The next morning, Yuri is woken up by his phone.  
“So?” says Phichit.  
“I said yes. This is unreal! Why did you tell him I was going to propose?”  
“I didn't. He figured it out. Later on, he asked my permission. He said it was more important than your parents' permission. I grudgingly said yes if you have a long engagement. That goes for you too. No eloping. I adore weddings, and I want this one to be extravagant. Talk to you later, bye!” ends Phichit.  
“What did Phichit want,” Viktor asks with a yawn.  
“My answer to your proposal. How did you know I wanted to propose? Have you been spying on my computer again?” Yuri asks, burning with curiosity. Viktor covers his head with a pillow, and pretends to sleep. Yuri pulls the pillow away, and whispers,   
“I'll make it worth your while.”  
Yuri watches Viktor process what that could mean. Viktor explains,  
“You've been lost in thought, and distracted for days. Phichit said nothing was wrong. If you were dumping me or quitting your job, he wouldn't say that. Phichit said it was none of my business, which means it has to do with me. Phichit sounded peeved, which means he thinks it's beneficial to me. Then I found this,” Viktor shows Yuri a copy of Gay Weddings and Marriage Magazine. “How is that worth my while?”  
Yuri pushes Viktor onto his stomach, and slowly runs his tongue towards his bottom.  
“I'll propose every day if this is what happens…” moans Viktor.

Sometime later, Yuri asks,  
“Why do you want to marry me?”   
“Are you having second thoughts already?” grumbles Viktor.  
“Don't get defensive, I just like hearing why you love me…”  
“You're kind, good looking, and make my pulse race, and it's charming to think that we're fated to be together…also, something shifted while we were apart.”  
“Shifted?”  
“Yes. I'm not sure how to describe it… It's like our relationship deepened, it went to a new level.”  
“It did, and it made me miss you more. When we got back together, it felt like we've been together for years. Why didn't you wait for me to ask?”  
Viktor looks unhappy at that question. He sighs, then admits,  
“Yakov needs me back in St. Petersburg, I should leave tomorrow. And you're still oblivious to several young men who have their eye on you in your company…”

A week later, Viktor is back in St. Petersburg. He joins the principals for morning ballet class, when Viktor hears Mila whisper,  
“Viktor! Where did you get the ring?”  
Viktor shrugs, but Georgi says quite loudly,  
“You got married!?”  
“Mister Popovich, quiet!” yells Yakov.  
As soon as class is over, the dancers crowd around Viktor, interrogating him about the ring.   
“Oh it's a… omamori, a good luck charm,” explains Viktor cryptically.  
“A charm for what?” questions Mila.  
“It's supposed to make me lucky in love…” replies Viktor.  
Viktor admires the gold ring on the fourth finger of his right hand. It's shiny and heavy, and Viktor gazes at his reflection in the mirror. Who is the person in front of him? Everything in his life seems to be shifting, but now he has a life outside of dance.

At lunchtime, Mila heads straight for Vasily.  
“Are you all right? I suppose you've heard the news about Katsuki and Viktor…” she says solicitously. Vasily nods.  
“I'm fine. I have a new problem now,” confesses Vasily, showing Mila a copy of Harry Potter And the Sorcerer's Stone.

At the Cleveland Ballet, Yuri keeps rubbing the ring on his right hand, in disbelief.  
“Amigo mio, did you get married?” asks Rebekah with a huge smile.  
Yuri shakes his head no.  
“Not yet. We're engaged… the ring is magical. Every time I miss him, I rub the ring and remember that somehow we're gonna work things out… Living on different continents is hard.”  
Later that day, Yuri notices a voicemail from Yakov Feltsman. Yuri returns his call right away.  
“Good morning Mister Feltsman…”  
“Katsuki, you can't just abandon him. It's been months, and he hasn't choreographed two steps, let alone settled on a story or theme. He's only signing short-term contracts, and now he's gonna be even more intractable because of that injury. I've had enough! You're his boyfriend – fiancé – whatever – you take care of him!” Feltsman hangs up. Worried, Yuri calls Viktor. Viktor sounds unusually depressed.  
“Yuri, I want you to really think about something… What if I stop dancing, and no longer do any choreography. Maybe I'm just working at a restaurant… Just a has-been… Would that still be a life you'd want to share with me?” asks Viktor, sounding tremulous.  
“What happened? What did you injure?” questions Yuri.  
“My left ankle again…”  
“And what did the doctor say?”  
“She wants me to not dance for weeks…” announces Viktor, as if been told never to walk again. Yuri heaves a sigh of relief.   
“And what choreography have you been working on?”  
“… There's nothing. The wellspring of creativity has completely run dry. I should retire.”  
“Viktor, what happened to the most stubborn, driven person in the world?”  
“He died of heartbreak. I am the dregs that remain…”  
“I don't know how to deal with your dramatics on the phone…So what happened to your ankle?”  
“We have been performing Anna Karenina, and the reviews were terrible. So Yakov started rehearsing Jewels, that abstract ballet by Balanchine. I was zigzagging to catch Mila in the Diamonds pas de deux,  
and my ankle gave out. I'm terribly old…” laments Viktor. “Aren't you going to cheer me up?”  
“You are not depressed. And I can't visit you right now… What are you doing to occupy yourself?”  
“I've been plotting to get you to back at the Mariinsky. I told Yakov I was depressed, and I need you here. Then I plan to set the thermostat on high, so it's too warm for you to wear any clothes…”  
“Viktor, you need to work on choreography. You know what? I'm tired of lovers dying, lovers turning into animals, or lovers being spirited away. And cheating. I want a happy ending for us. Make me dance a happy ending…Go outside, get inspired.”  
“My ankle is swollen, I can't get my favourite Christian Louboutin shoes on.” There's a long silence. “Yuri… you're ignoring me.”  
“I have to go to sleep. But I sent you an article on Louis XIV and his footwear. He wore high heels because he was short, and was obsessed with shoes. And by the way… I'm naked. I'm going to bed, and I will be… thinking of you. Here's a photo.”  
Viktor's phone chirps. Viktor looks at the photo.  
“Yuri… I can only see your face…” complains Viktor.  
“Make some progress on your choreography, and I'll send you the entire photo. I miss you. Good night.”

The next day, Viktor hobbles on crutches straight to Yakov's office.  
“Good morning Yakov. …you have always been there for me. I wouldn't be the dancer I am today without you teaching me, and guiding me. The Mariinsky has been my home, and I never thought I would leave,” begins Viktor.  
“No need for the emotional appeal. I will hire Katsuki back, but he still can't be more than a soloist. Well… First soloist, instead of second soloist…” offers Yakov.  
“He's not coming back. I'm leaving.”  
“You don't understand what you're throwing away!” shouts Yakov, then grumbles, “Do you need more money?”  
“More money won't help me, I need to be with him, and his long-distance skills are… lacking,” explains Viktor. Then there's a long silence as Yakov processes the information.   
“As long as I'm here, the Mariinsky will welcome you. When you've healed, do a farewell performance,” grumbles Yakov, poorly hiding his sadness. Viktor gets up, and leaves the office. Then he hops back, gives Yakov a hug, and leaves again, not wanting to see the tears in Yakov's eyes.

After the Sunday performance, Yuri returns to his apartment, eats a quick bite, and falls asleep. The next morning they both have the day off, so Yuri calls Viktor,  
“As soon as my contract is up, I'm returning to St. Petersburg,” announces Yuri. Viktor replies,  
“I've been wanting that for months, but now I see you made the right choice to leave. I've been stagnating with the Mariinsky, and I need to take flight as well. I will be dancing guest solos at different theaters. I'm searching for a dance company interested in redoing a classic ballet. Make sure your contract allows you to dance in my ballet. I'll give you a leading role. We'll spend some time apart, but we'll have a home base… in Cleveland. Are you enjoying Cleveland?”  
Yuri sits down, overwhelmed.  
“You're leaving St. Petersburg to be with me? Won't you resent me for ruining your career…” worries Yuri.  
“I'm in a different place in my career than you. In the meantime…,” Viktor switches his phone to the other ear. “Would you open your door?”  
Yuri walks to the front door, and opens it. Viktor is standing there on crutches, and the cab driver is carrying four suitcases.   
“Viktor!” cries Yuri.  
“I'm here to create your happy ending,” announces Viktor. He throws the crutches to one side, and pulls Yuri onto the couch on top of him.  
“You ignite such passion in me, at a physical level and a creative level. I simply can't do without you anymore…”, then he kisses Yuri. Yuri lets himself bask in the excitement and pleasure of Viktor's touch. After what seems like an hour, Yuri complains,  
“Viktor… The thing is… how am I going to get anything done? I can't think when you're close…”  
“Ah! That must be what honeymoons are for…”  
Yuri realizes he can have what he wants. Dancing, and Viktor. Maybe dancing with Viktor. Yuri feels a bubble of joy spread throughout him. Viktor gazes at Yuri and smiles.   
“You glow when you're happy…Though I'm not deserving, I have won your love. And I will enjoy every moment with you. And hopefully, if I die first, I will have loved you so well, you will be dissatisfied with anyone else.”


	23. Chapter  23: Epilogue

A year later…  
Minami Kenjiro is wearing a suit, and is sitting in the audience of the War Memorial Opera House in San Francisco. He bounces in his seat til the orchestra begins playing, and the curtain opens to reveal Viktor Nikiforov as the a young prince, resembling Louis XIV, fawning over a pair of high heeled shoes from the seventeenth century. The shoemaker shows royal heir many different types. The Prince and the shoemaker do a dance. The Queen looks less than thrilled at discovering the two, and organizes a grand ball. In the next scene, Cinderella in her rags encounters a fairy, and is clothed in a beautiful tutu gown. She arrives at the ball amongst dozens of other beautifully dressed ladies. The Prince looks bored. He dances with a few young ladies. Suddenly, he seems interested in someone. He crosses the room, and the direction of Cinderella, only to pass by her and nod to a young nobleman, hidden behind her. Katsuki nods back, then dances with Cinderella. Both men dance with several partners, constantly looking at each other. Cinderella seems annoyed. The audience titters in laughter. Finally Nikiforov meets Katsuki alone in the garden. They dance a pas de deux. It is graceful and romantic, with moments of both men leaping together. The audience is entranced. Minami sees several men next to him in tears. Eventually both men are caught together, and there is an uproar.

Onstage, people from the court are dancing in anger, and surprise. Katsuki runs away but loses a shoe. The shoemaker helps the Prince find the young nobleman. Then the fairy does an elaborate dance, a magical spell in the midst of the ballroom. Everyone calms down, and seems to wake up. Both men are brought back together, but the fairy expended so much energy, that she is dying. Suddenly, an older woman screams. She comes forward and pulls off the wig and dress of the fairy – revealing another prince. The woman wails for her dying son. There is a brief funeral scene.

The Prince and nobleman get married, and Cinderella discouraged, tears off her tutu, and dances with another woman. The curtain closes. There's an odd moment of silence in the audience, then all over the theater, people stand up and cheer. The dancers come forward to take a bow, then the curtain closes. But the cheering continues, until the dancers come out again for another bow. 

Standing on the stage, Viktor takes Yuri's hand for the third bow. The stage lights are blindingly bright, the noise from the audience is deafening.Viktor turns towards Yuri, tilts his chin up, and gives him a quick kiss on the lips. The audience erupts in louder cheers. Yuri looks surprised, but gives Viktor's hand a quick squeeze.

Yuri and Viktor walk to their shared dressing room, exhausted and elated. Yuri sits down at his dressing table,Viktor turns to Yuri, and declares,  
“Well?”  
“Well what, Viktor?” responds Yuri, looking lost in thought.  
“What did you think of the evening?” inquires Viktor.  
“I can't believe you kissed me… on stage… in front of thousands of people…” replies Yuri, running his fingers on his lips. Viktor finds the motion alluring, and gives Yuri another kiss. Then he continues,  
“I just choreographed, staged, and performed a gay ballet for you. I want feedback, some appreciation, maybe even adoration? This year has been an insane amount of work.”  
“I know, I know… Every dancer is jealous of me.”  
Yuri stands up, and runs his hands up the inside of Viktor's white tights, very slowly.  
“My fiancé is a ballet genius. This was ...the most ...amazing night of my life ....even better than making love with you,” complements Yuri, with a sly smile. Viktor sighs theatrically, and laments,  
“I see. How mean to tease me right now, when I can't prove to you that sex with me is better than ballet… ”  
There's a knock on the door, and soon they are both mobbed with fans and visitors. After more than an hour, Viktor ushers people out.  
“Put on your tuxedo, we have a party to attend…” Viktor tells Yuri. Yuri gets dressed, then frowns at himself in the mirror.  
“You upgraded my tuxedo, this one has a white vest, and looks fancier…” accuses Yuri.  
“I'm planning to upgrade your whole wardrobe, I'm thinking of accidentally ruining a shirt every time I do laundry…” Viktor informs him. 

They leave the Opera House, and cross the street. Viktor leads him to a huge imposing building, with columns and a dome.  
“Yuri, when I saw this building, it reminded me of St. Petersburg. I found out it's San Francisco's City Hall. Marry me here tonight.”  
Yuri cocks his head, reflecting.  
“Viktor, the place looks closed, and Phichit would need to be here,” replies Yuri. Viktor waves his hand, and Phichit comes running with a bouquet of pink chrysanthemums.  
“You asked for me, right?” questions Phichit excitedly, “Yuri, you better have asked for me…”  
Yuri looks at Phichit, who nods his head. “We've made a truce…Tell your pasty Russian to make a ballet about a Japanese man and his Thai best friend,” says Phichit like Viktor's not there.Yuri grabs the flowers.  
“Okay. Let's get married,” decides Yuri, “I assume you're going to pull some strings to have this building opened…you're terribly good at getting your own way.”

Viktor makes a quick call, and they are ushered into the marble entryway. There are only a few lights shining in the majestic edifice. A young woman in a suit brings them to the steps in the rotunda. They sign some documents on a clipboard. The officiant says a few words, and looks at Yuri expectantly.  
“I, uh, have not prepared…”  
Yuri looks around at the surroundings, not imagining this day would ever come. Then Yuri takes Viktor's hand, and feels that familiar excitement and belonging. Being with him… Yuri feels so much love and joy coursing through his body. He blurts out,  
“I vow… to not avoid you for more than… three days, to check what you're wearing before getting dressed for a fancy night out, and to deal with your dramatic moods when you retire from dance.”  
Viktor smiles at his words, and replies in the same tone,  
“I vow to love you through whatever life sends us: war, plague, old age, and ugly fashions.”  
“I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may kiss,” says the officiant.  
Yuri wraps his arms around Viktor's neck, and kisses him, feeling giddy.  
“Woo hoo!” shouts Phichit, dancing around, then gives them both a hug.

Viktor and Yuri return very late to their tiny apartment in Ghirardelli square, and go straight to bed. Viktor wakes up from the same pleasant dream he's had several times. He was standing on a small island. It was warm and sunny, with sun baked rocks, and a few plants. Yuri was sitting nearby, smiling. Viktor was watching the water, and a dolphin leaped out, with a spray of water.  
“Are you awake?” questions Yuri, sitting next to a window with an open laptop, watching the fog obscure the Golden Gate Bridge. Viktor nods. “I don't know if we could afford it, but I found a wonderful place for our honeymoon. It's a small island, Li Galli, on the Amalfi coast of Italy. It's also called Dance Island, and has the shape of a dolphin. It's very luxurious, and private. It belonged to Nureyev, he decorated it in brilliant mosaics…”  
Viktor bolts up, and comes to look at the computer screen.  
“Let me see some photos…amazing! It's exactly like the place in my dream. I don't care what it costs!” exclaims Viktor. Yuri smiles indulgently, then gives him a quick kiss.  
“Viktor… I don't care if we vacation in a small wooden shack. If it pleases you, I will be happy. You are my home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story began as based on Les Liaison Dangereuses, a story told through letters. Christophe is playing the role of the Marquise de Merteuil, Viktor is the Viscount de Valois, Yuri is La Présidente de Tourvel, JJ Leroy is the virginal Cécile de Volanges, Natalie Leroy is Madame de Volanges, Sophie Gercourt is the Comte de Gercourt, and Isabella Yang is Le Chevalier Danceny. As I was writing, I decided to leave the world of figure skating, and enter the world of ballet. As I researched ballet history, I encountered the love story between Erik Bruhn and Rudolf Nureyev. Originally, their story was just meant to inform me about ballet, but I became intrigued by Nureyev's charisma and Bruhn's musings. Bruhn was very interested in Protestant thought and Chinese Buddhism, and his reflections show a deep thinker. Then I realized that by setting the story in 2013 (with the opening of the Mariinsky II), Bruhn died 9 months before Viktor was born. Suddenly, their love story became a precursor to Victuuri. Many of the phrases Viktor and Yuri say are paraphrased or quoted from Erik Bruhn and Rudolf Nureyev words from films and letters. In general, Viktor repeats Nureyev, and Yuri repeats Bruhn, as if they remember what the other said more, and have switched personalities (imagine a rotating yin yang symbol). The Russian dancers I have invented, while Vasily Machenko is based on the photograph of Vasily Tkachenko, and in no way represents that actual dancer. My Vasily is the reincarnation of Teja Kremke, Nureyev's first lover. Teja had a sister who played piano. When I read Julie Kavanagh's book, I was surprised that she described Teja almost the same way I described Vasily. As I was finishing the story, I learned that Tkachenko will be starring in a moving as Nureyev, and I copied that fact into Machenko's life. Towards the end of his life, Nureyev starred as the King in the King and I, and toured the US, which is one reason I titled many of the chapters after songs from that musical.
> 
> I was hoping to write something else, but sometimes it seems easier to let whatever my Muse is forcing me to write have her way with me, in hopes she will let me finish other work later. 
> 
> Some sources:  
> A huge thank you to Julie Kavanagh who wrote Nureyev: The Life, her book gave me an invaluable look into the world of ballet.
> 
> “… Darling I love you, not only you as an ideal or an exciting idea but I love you for all you are and what you are… I am glad we are not like most “normal” people who are neither strong nor weak. We have got something even more beautiful coming and perhaps also something of great suffering ahead, but please darling let us share that and all to come together. Let us face it together, let us not be alone… I have found you, I hope you have found me too.” Erik Bruhn, page 271, Nureyev: the Life by Julie Kavanagh
> 
> “You are always naked in front of an audience.” Rudolf Nureyev, Nureyev: From Russia With Love,  
> BBC Documentary 2007  
> “I find myself surrounded by great responsibilities that I have to face by myself, entirely alone. I live through moments that are entirely devoid of love - Erik Bruhn, Artists in Love: Rudolf Nureyev & Erik Bruhn Documentary
> 
> Dancing through Darkness, a documentary about Rudolf Nureyev last years
> 
> Real Candor and Insight from A Legendary Dancer - A Documentary about Erik Bruhn
> 
> “The more I see of man, the more I like dogs,” Madame de Stael


End file.
